


The Stars Crossed Right

by CaliHart, dottie_wan_kenobi



Series: The Stars Crossed Right [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bisexuality, Bucky and May are siblings, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Chapter Length Varies, Christian Holidays, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cussing, Depression, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family, Healthy Relationships, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, MCD refers to Ben Parker, Meet-Cute, No Sex, Passive Suicidal Feelings, Pets, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Siblings, Tattoos, Trans Peter Parker, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 54,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaliHart/pseuds/CaliHart, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/dottie_wan_kenobi
Summary: Steve returns from the bathroom as soon as Bucky’s eyes close. “Buck!”He groans. “Nope. I’m going back to bed. Nope.”“Bucky.”“No.”“We’re going to be late.”“To what?”“Your surprise.” Steve waits for Bucky to move, gives up after a moment. Then, like an asshole, he settles his tiny ass on Bucky’s hips andfucking tickles him.“Goddammit, Steve,” Bucky nearly shrieks. He opens his eyes wide and pushes at Steve’s massive shoulders. “Off, off.”Steve relents, but doesn’t get off — apparently, it’s just too funny. He drops so they’re chest to chest, laughing so hard he’s making them both shake with it.“Stevie,” Bucky complains, but he’s smiling wide enough for it to hurt. It doesn’t quite hit the intended mark.A fic spanning from April 10th, 2011 to August 21st, 2016. Read as Bucky and Steve encounter relationship woes, superhero-dom, cute animals named after beloved characters, Bucky's hilarious family, tragedy, and the Accords. Not necessarily in that order.(Written for the 2018 Shrunkyclunks Bang!)





	1. 2011 (and it's our time now if you want it to be)

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of stuff to say here! First and foremost, I want to thank **Cali** , my amazing Alpha Reader who....wrote some scenes ngl, **Isis** , who's also amazing and read it all in less than 24 hours to help me even though she didn't have to, and **Ryan** , my amazing artist. Also thank you to the mods, especially **Dresden** who answered all my dumb questions!
> 
> Title comes from Sabrina Carpenter's Why. Yes I did that.
> 
> I was gonna write this and the rest of the series as one single fic but...I didn't have the time lol. So here's the first chapter, acting as a fic. It's like 50k long. It's chill, y'all.
> 
> Here's some points you technically don't need to know but I suggest reading:  
> 1) Bucky’s apartment building is 1326 Ocean Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11230. This location was picked only because it was on real life listings online and because I needed a precise location. I don’t live there, I don’t know anyone who does, and I am not suggesting that anyone go there.  
> 2) Steve’s apartment building is 1020 Park Pl, Brooklyn, NY 11213. This location was picked only because it was on real life listings online and because I needed a precise location. I don’t live there, I don’t know anyone who does, and I am not suggesting that anyone go there.  
> 3) Josie’s location is the real life location of Di Fara (1424 Avenue J, Brooklyn, NY 11230). It's not the same Josie's as in Daredevil.  
> 4) Bucky’s feelings about labels reflects my own personal feelings about labels. I feel comforted by knowing what to call myself, that there’s an identifier. It’s normal. Some people don’t feel that way, which is also completely normal.  
> 5) There is a laundromat on Avenue J near Bucky’s apartment, but the one in this fic is fictional.  
> 6) 200 Park Ave is the real life site of the MetLife building, where Stark Tower is located in the MCU.  
> 7) I couldn’t figure out a way to get it in there, but Bucky has gotten an STD test at his local clinic and it came back negative. Steve is a virgin and couldn’t have STDs, anyway.  
> 8) The shops near Stark Tower are not real.  
> 9) All depictions of celebrities in this fic are fictionalized versions of them.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2011 -- Bucky and Steve's first calendar year together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy
> 
> Now with amazing banner by Ryan!

[](https://imgur.com/8Y7Pmcl)

## April 10th, 2011

Bucky doesn’t often have to take the subway. Usually what calls him away from home in Brooklyn is meetings — he’s always on the subway at the best time in the morning, when everyone is still tired. It’s nice being the only one halfway awake on the subway. Like every other millennial, he lives off coffee; his only companion on the long ride to Manhattan is a cup of Starbucks.

No one is fucking around for a viral video, or anything like that. It’s almost _sleepy_ , which has got to be one of the best feelings for a public place. School was always better when everyone around him was just as tired as he was.

This morning, Tony’s called him in for a meeting about a potential increase in security around his personal files. It sounds like a headache and a half, but Bucky can’t miss it (“ _So_ mandatory, if you don’t come, I won’t even have to fire you, you’ll just know,” Tony had said in his email). So there he is, standing like a jerk, one hand holding him steady and the other holding his coffee. He can’t check his phone like this, so he’s stuck to staring directly out the window like he’s actually gonna see something. It’s either that or stare at what few other passengers there are — several business men and women, a blonde guy who looks like he could bench press Bucky, and a young mother with an infant. His Ma raised him right; he doesn’t stare at people. So out the window it is.

Dark, damp walls are the only thing Bucky can see. He sighs through his nose, looking down at his coffee cup just long enough to make sure the hole in the lid would land on his lips, and not his cheek or something. He leans his head back, eyes closing as he drinks.

He can’t help but make a noise as he pulls the cup away, enjoying the sweet taste maybe more than he should. But really, there’s no shame. He’s a sugar addict.

He holds it close, not wanting it to spill.

He takes another sip a little while later, taking notice of the blonde guy fidgeting anxiously on one of the benches. Bucky shifts on his feet, leaning more into the pole he’s holding. He tries to subtly watch the guy, but he feels pretty obvious in the small car. The distance between them is nothing like it was in Afghanistan — the guy will be able to see him easily.

He shakes his head. Anyway. The guy glances at the mother, who's started talking to her baby, and at the business people, who are loudly discussing the merits of merchandise. Mostly, the guy looks at Bucky — a quick scan of his face, a perusal of his chest, a frank look at Bucky’s coffee.

The guy stands, just as the car rattles. Bucky’s used to it enough that he doesn’t stumble; he expects the guy to fall back onto the bench. Instead, the guy stays steady and moves right to where Bucky is standing. Instantly, Bucky stands taller, not sure what to expect.

Is this guy gonna talk to him? Walk past him to the mom and baby? Shout at Bucky for some reason? _Wait, shut up brain, I haven’t even done anything to make him mad at me,_ he tells himself, _unless he’s offended at how well I’m passing for an adult._

None of those things end up happening — no, what happens is this. The car jerks so hard that Bucky — yes, _Bucky_ , the guy known for his balance — nearly falls flat on his face. His coffee goes flying, hitting the guy right in the chest and seemingly exploding on impact. More likely the lid popped off, but the end result certainly looks like an explosion. Melted whipped cream and tan brown coffee drench the guy’s shirt, probably seeping down into his pants.

“I am so sorry,” he says immediately, barely biting off a curse. Jesus, now that the guy is this close to him (and his shirt is wet, dear god), Bucky can’t help but notice how attractive he is — thick muscles hidden by heavy clothes, a jawline Bucky wants to _lick_ , and his face, good lord his face. And he just spilled almost his entire cup of coffee on him. God, if May were here, she’d smack him right upside the head for this.

The guy flushes, as if he’s the one who just made an absolute fool of himself. “Oh, uh, it’s alright. I — I don’t mind.”

“You don’t — dude, what? I just covered you in coffee. What do you mean, you don’t mind?”

“I mean...I don’t mind? It’s just coffee.”

Just coffee. What the fuck. “It’s dripping into your pants.”

The guy looks down, as if just noticing, and cringes. “Oh.”

Bucky furrows his brow, equal parts confused and charmed. Who the hell is this guy? “I’m getting off at Grand Central, gotta work, but I can...I can pay for your dry cleaning? What’s your number?”

“Number?”

“Uh, your phone number?”

“I don’t have a phone.” He looks a little apologetic, and confused. Bucky wonders why he doesn’t have a phone, distantly — not even a flip phone? But that’s not important.

“Um, okay. I can give you mine, then? Do you have a home phone or something?”

The guy shrugs. Bucky’s gonna take that as a yes. He reaches for his wallet, one hand free now to go digging in his back pocket. It’s quick work to pull it out, and fish out a business card. He hands it over; the guy wrinkles his nose as he reads. Though it’s a common reaction — Stark Industries isn’t exactly a popular company — Bucky feels his nerves ratchet up. “That says James Barnes, but I go by Bucky.”

The blonde guy smiles shyly, looking an odd mix of eager and damp with Bucky’s mocha all over him. “I’m Steve.”

“Steve,” Bucky tries out. “Sorry again for dumping my coffee on you. Sucks we couldn’t meet in better circumstances.”

Steve’s smile grows a little confidence, and Bucky’s heart does a flip. “No, this was perfect. It’s not every day I get to wear a stranger’s coffee.”

Bucky’s brain flat lines. Oh my god. Steve has to be coming onto him. Dumbly, he asks, “Are you teasing me?”

Steve blushes, his cheeks and ears turning red. “Uh, yes?”

_Oh my god,_ Bucky thinks again. _How adorable. I want to climb him like a tree_ _._

* * *

## April 11th, 2011

Bucky’s woken up by his phone ringing. _Jesus fuck,_ he thinks, assuming it’s Tony calling him in again. He throws an arm out, landing first on his book then his phone. Without opening his eyes, he swipes to take the call.

“What?” He groans irritably. It’s too early to be awake, and Tony really needs to —

“Bucky?”

Shit that’s not Tony. Bucky forces his eyes open, barely seeing anything. He shoves himself up, his blanket falling down around his waist. “Steve!” He practically yelps. “Sorry, sorry, I thought you were my boss.”

“You talk to your boss like that?”

“If you knew him, you’d understand.” He rubs at his eyes, trying to get the crust to go away. “Anyway, uh, your dry cleaning? You can send me the bill — let me get you my address, so you know where to send it.”

“Alright,” Steve hums. “Have you had your coffee yet?”

Bucky, who’d been gearing up to recite his address, pauses. How does Steve know he survives off coffee? Is seeing Bucky with one early in the morning enough for Steve to guess that? “No, not yet. I just woke up.”

“I woke you, didn’t I. Gosh, I’m sorry. I’ve been up for a while, I thought you would be too…. You’re usually up by now.”

Okay, what?

“I mean, I assumed you’d be… Stark Industries probably has you come in early, right?” Steve chuckles nervously, and there are shuffling noises on his end of the line. “Um, you know what, just ignore me. Can I get your address?”

Bucky rattles it off, barely getting the numbers in correct order (his brain just doesn’t wanna work this early in the day).

“Thanks,” Steve says. “You know you don’t have to pay, right? I mean, really. It’s all right, I can take care of it.”

“Steve, I really do have to pay. It’s only right.” He rubs at his forehead, cringing at himself. He sounds like a Full House-era PSA.

Steve pulls that, “If you’re sure…,” shit, which Bucky replies that yes, he is sure, and then they exchange goodbyes. Bucky lays his phone down next to him, just staring up at the ceiling.

Steve’s weird, he can’t help but think. Cute but weird.

He thinks about going back to sleep — his dream had been really, really nice for once — but then something clicks and he remembers he’s supposed to meet May and Ben for brunch today. His treat, since he doesn’t have a growing boy to take care of.

He stumbles out of bed, coordination gone. His blanket stays on the bed, and goosebumps shiver up his spine and down his arms and chest. God, it’s cold. It’s only April — his AC shouldn’t be on yet.

Whatever. He can deal with it later — he needs to get to the post office and to the VA before brunch, and he doesn’t have time to worry about it right now.

He throws open his closet, finding dark wash jeans to pull on. He almost takes a shirt off the hanger, stopping himself to look at the weather first. Sixties today, cloudy but not very windy. He debates with himself over a shirt versus a sweater, then, after picking sweater, has to search his entire desk for the damn letter he has to send. Mom’s crazy patriot Uncle Artie sends him letters often, and expects one back the next day, practically. And he has to respond, because Artie’s two boys are both in prison and his daughter won’t talk to him. Also because Mom insists. Somehow, May’s been spared his long-winded tirades. He’ll have to complain at her about that later.

After dropping by the post office to send his letter, it’s a fifty minute ride on the subway to the VA center, taking first the D train, then the R train. He barely makes it in time, but the leader of the group, Mike, had stalled a little so Bucky could make it.

“Thanks, man,” he says, and then doesn’t talk for an hour. Most days, he can talk, he can share, but today, he can’t. No one begrudges him that, least of all himself. He’s come a long way.

On the way to Queens, he forces himself to ignore the couple trying to break dance in a confined, stuffy space. All he ends up doing is thinking about Steve. His type usually isn’t blonde and blue eyed, though he’s made a few exceptions in the past. And who’s to say that Steve is even interested in him? And not super creepy? _Like I’m being right now,_ Bucky thought, groaning to himself. _Slow your roll, Barnes._

He scrubs a hand over his face and hopes that May will set him to straights.

God, this is gonna be one long ride.

**[...]**

May looks tired. It’s the first thing he notices. He takes his seat, pulling out a chair across from her. Ben isn’t at the table, but a Root Beer, the only kind of soda he drinks, is. They’ve already ordered Bucky a coffee.

“You look like shit,” he says.

She doesn’t even blink. “Married shit, at least.”

Bucky clutches at his heart. “Oh, right for the sore spot.” She coolly takes a sip of her drink, hollowing out her cheeks and pursing her lips. She quirks an eyebrow. She doesn’t even have to say anything, just — “God, May, shut up.”

“No.” She sets her drink down, leaning forward a little. “So, c’mon, spill. How lonely are you?”

“I’m so glad I agreed to help you write your damn book by pouring out my heart to you on a daily basis,” he complains. “Where’s Ben? Doesn’t he have to be here so I can publicly embarrass myself even more?”

“He went to take a call — his mom, you know how she is…. And anyway, you aren’t embarrassing yourself! You’re opening up to us. It’s different.”

“How.”

“We aren’t making fun of you.”

He shakes his head, deciding to change the subject away from him. “Doesn’t count. Anyway, I meant to ask this first,” which is a lie that she doesn’t need to know about, “how’s Peter?”

May’s eyes light up. Having Peter has really been good for her. Bucky can remember a time when she said she’d never have a child. Sometimes, she’s confessed to him, she still doesn’t want to be a mom, or aunt-cum-mom. But Peter is cool, and if she had to have a kid, she’s glad it’s Peter. Bucky’s glad, too. “Oh, he’s doing really well. He made a friend recently — a little boy named Ned who moved here from Long Island. They’re bonding over Legos.”

“Sounds like I need to come over soon, show off my superior Lego skills.”

“‘Superior’.”

“Shut up.”

They throw a few more barbs at each other, not to hurt but to tease. When Ben comes back to the table, he’s greeted by Bucky and May laughing.

“Hey, Buck.”

“Hey, man! How’s your ma?”

Ben sits heavily, sighing. “She’s...herself.”

Bucky nods knowingly. “Yeah, I know how that is. I had to send a letter to Uncle Artie today — he’s still hung up on me leaving to go to school. Still!”

“At least you’re doing something with yours,” May immediately defends.

“Hey, it’s not like Cindy isn’t doing something with hers. She’s just doing it far away from him.”

“Did he mention Tate and Hunter again?” Ben asks.

“Of course he did. ‘My Tate went into the army, you know. He killed his CO, sure, and maybe a coupla other guys, but his CO deserved it!’ Like, just shut the fuck up.”

They all laugh and complain about him some more before the waitress comes over, asking them what they’d like to eat. It only takes a minute, and then she’s gone back to the kitchen.

May sits back. “Okay, seriously this time, spill. We need the deets.”

“May, you’re thirty-one.”

“I can say deets.”

“Does Peter say deets?”

Ben supplies, “No, no he does not.”

“Then you can’t say it.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re still stalling. Did you,” she gasps, “ _meet_ someone?”

Bucky flushes instantly, much to his never ending embarrassment. “Not really?”

“Not really?” Ben parrots. “What the hell does that mean?”

“There was this cute guy on the subway yesterday. But it’s not gonna go anywhere, so I haven’t really met anyone.”

“Cute, huh?” Ben asks, of course singling that out immediately.

Thank god, the waitress comes back then, bringing them their food. Unfortunately, May isn’t one to let things go.

May crosses her arms on the table, leaning over them, getting way too into Bucky’s business, if you ask him. “Why isn’t it going to go anywhere?”

“I spilled almost an entire venti white chocolate mocha on him.”

Ben, who Bucky feels is like a brother he never had, chuckles. “How’d that happen?”

“The car jerked me off balance,” he shrugs, face on fire.

“Was he angry?” May asks.

“No, I don’t think so. He said it’s not every day he gets to wear a stranger’s coffee.”

May and Ben share a look. _They’re always doing this,_ Bucky thinks, settling himself in his seat. _They’re always conspiring about me._ And he gets it, he really does, but it’s annoying. They’ve tried to set him up with a lot of people, and they’re always in his business.

It’s May who says, “He was flirting. You have to ask him out.”

“When am I — “ He starts, but pauses when his phone rings. He pulls it out, watching it ring for a second. Over his phone, he sees May raise an eyebrow. He throws her the stink eye and swipes to answer the call. “Hey, Steve.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, voice oddly warm and overly familiar. “I have the bill. I, uh, I was thinking, I could just bring it by your place? So you don’t have to wait for it come in through the mail.”

“Um, I’m not home right now. Can you gimme just a sec?”

“Sure.”

Bucky puts the call on mute, and looks right at May. “It’s the guy I spilled coffee on.”

She rolls her eyes. “We know. What’s going on?”

“He wants to bring it to me in person,” he practically hisses. For some reason, he feels like he has to whisper.

“Just have him come here,” Ben suggests like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “That way you can see him again and we’ll make sure you don’t get killed.”

“Oh, thanks,” Bucky snips, turning the call off mute. “Are you anywhere near Queens?”

“Sorta?”

“Do you wanna come to Norma’s on Catalpa Ave? I’m out to eat with my sister and brother in law, so if you wanna wait, I’ll understand.”

For some reason, that stumps Steve. “Your brother in law?”

“My sister’s husband?” He answers, a little unsure.

Steve clears his throat. “Yeah, heh. I must’ve I misheard you. How much longer will you be there?”

“We pretty much just got our food, so probably...another half hour?” It’s odd; he’s so excited to see Steve he could wait all day. Which doesn’t really make sense but Bucky’s going to ignore that for now.

“I can make a half hour work.”

Bucky tries very hard to sound chill when he responds, “Okay. See you soon?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and yup, there’s that excitement. Dunno why Bucky ever tried hiding it. “Bye, Bucky.”

“Bye, Steve.”

The second he sets his phone down, May is on him. “He’s coming here?”

“Yeah? Is that okay?”

“It’s a public place,” Ben says, at the same time May excitedly asks, “Is that okay? Of course! I wanna meet this guy.”

“I barely even know him,” Bucky points out.

“He flirted with you even though you spilled hot coffee on him,” May reminds right back, mimicking his tone.

Bucky’s face flushes as he thinks, _damn, she got me there._

**[...]**

It’s not a long wait for Steve. Bucky tries desperately to change the subject away from him, but hearing May and Ben talk about trying to get free time — _adult_ free time — isn’t much better.

“He and Ned are planning to have a sleepover soon, hopefully at Ned’s place. We’ve been meaning to try out — “

“Steve!” Bucky says, way too loudly. But anything is better than hearing the end of that sentence, even embarrassment. And anyway, Steve looks really good without coffee all over him. He’s wearing khakis and a button up shirt that’s tucked in, loafers and a belt with a pronounced, but not tacky, buckle. He looks like a grandpa. Bucky is sorta, kinda into it. And his smile...he lights up the room, and Bucky’s heart tells him, _it’s all for you._ Bucky’s brain says, _shut up._

“Bucky,” Steve replies, warm and friendly like the last two times. “Good to see you again.”

“You too.” He smiles and nods and thinks, _okay, what next?_ He really doesn’t want this to end here. “Um, you have the bill?”

Steve pulls out his wallet, saying again, “I really wouldn’t mind if you didn’t pay it.”

“I appreciate that, but I have to.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else, just hands over the bill. Bucky glances at it — it’s small, shouldn’t upset his budget too much — and then looks at Steve, intending to say...something. But Steve’s looking right at him, and their eyes meet, and Bucky’s brain goes blank.

“Bucky, who’s this?” May asks, all sweet and innocent like she hasn’t been drilling him for the past half hour.

Bucky blinks, the moment broken. A flush crawls up his cheeks as he turns slightly, more towards his obnoxious older sister than towards Steve. “May, Ben, this is Steve. Steve, this is May, Ben.”

Steve graciously sticks a hand out, a small, tense smile on his face. “Nice to meet you both.”

Ben replies in kind, as always the most sane of their little group. May says, “We have heard so much about you. All good, of course.”

“May — “

“I mean, flirting with him after he spilled his precious coffee all over you? That’s just — “

Bucky’s whole face flames, and a glance at Steve proves he’s not the only one.

“ _May_ ,” Ben and Bucky say at the same time.

“Honey, look at the time, I think we need to go now or we’ll miss our — our appointment with the insurance place.”

May over exaggeratedly pretends to understand, apparently done torturing Bucky. “Oh! You’re right. How’d we let the time get so far away from us?”

Ben fondly smiles at her, shakes his head. He and May stand, and leave a tip in quick succession.

They both hug Bucky goodbye, and offer to pay one last time, even though they all know they can’t afford to pay. May kisses his cheeks, whispers in his ear, “Go get ‘em, tiger,” and then they’re gone.

“Let me just get my stuff together and then we can — “ Bucky starts, but doesn’t finish, because Steve nods and looks around. He bounces on the balls of his feet, which only makes Bucky pay more attention to his ridiculous body. He forces himself to look away, to get his wallet and to-go cup.

Steve follows him to the front, where he pays. Bucky feels Steve’s eyes on him the whole time, and it makes him jumpy. He has to force himself to be still, to not tap his toes or fingers. Once he’s paid and made a little small talk with the cashier, he looks towards Steve. Steve smiles and gestures to the front door, and Bucky follows him no problem.

It’s still damn cold out, but the sun has come out, teaming with the wind to make it a nice day. Bucky turns his face up to the sky, eyes closing for just a moment. When he looks back at Steve, he finds Steve staring at him, wistfully.

Bucky clears his throat, insides turning over. He’s so nervous. God, he’s never been this nervous in his entire life. But seeing Steve look at him like that? How could anyone stay strong against that _look_? “Steve, do you, ah, do you wanna go out sometime?”

Steve smiles and it shines so bright, Bucky’s blinded. “As long as we don’t go out for coffee, yes of course.”

Without thinking, Bucky slaps his arm, cursing, “ _Asshole._ ”

Steve laughs and laughs.

* * *

 

## April 15th, 2011

Bucky picks the place. Steve says that since he asked, he has to pick, but Bucky sorta gets the impression that Steve doesn’t know any good local places.

(He asks, a few days after seeing each other at the cafe, “Where are you from? You seem super bible belt.”

Steve’s reply? “Brooklyn born and raised.”

Bucky’s not exactly shocked but it’s not the answer he was expecting. Maybe...Kentucky, or Virginia, except he doesn’t have the drawl. But he doesn’t have that New Yawk accent either — compared to Steve, Bucky is practically unintelligible.)

Bucky hasn’t gone on a date in a while, especially not with someone he’s so flustered around. It sort of feels like there’s a lot riding on this, too, like he has to get it right. So he picks a fancy place — okay, Olive Garden, maybe that’s not fancy but it’s delicious and expensive, so he’s gonna say it’s fancy. Plus there’s practically a dress code.

(“Formal?” Steve asks, a note of distaste coloring his tone.

“Yeah, just wear something like what you’ve worn the last two times we saw each other.”

“Well, what are you going to wear?”

Bucky scratches his chin, thinking distantly about needing to shave. “Um, I don’t know. It’s supposed to be warmer than it has been. A polo, maybe?”)

Bucky _is_ in a polo — a light blue one with little sharks on it that fits the weather — and khaki asshole shorts he last wore to Easter ‘07. It’s a miracle that he still fits in them. It’s also a miracle that the B6 line isn’t as horribly humid and sweat-inducing as always. It’s warm enough today for short sleeves but not hot enough that he sweats through his clothes.

Of course, when he finally gets to the Olive Garden on Gateway Drive, he’s been stuck on the subway _and_ made to walk for twenty-five minutes and forty-nine seconds (who’s counting?). Steve’s already there, standing outside in a nice button down, not a hair out of place, frankly looking like a million bucks. Red’s a good look on him.

“I’m really sorry,” he says as he rushes towards Steve, knowing he’s late, and on the first date, too. “You been waiting long?”

At least, he thinks it’s a date. He should probably clear that up.

Steve graciously smiles at him, shrugging it off. “No, not too long. I got here early, anyway.”

Bucky sighs in relief. Maybe he hasn’t messed this up too badly. “You wanna go inside then?”

“Lead the way,” Steve replies.

Five minutes later, they’re seated. It’s not too crowded, thankfully, and their table is far enough from the doors and the bathrooms to not be bothered by other people. Their server gives them breadsticks and a salad, and their drinks. It’s quiet at first, as they settle.

Bucky can’t handle silences very well, so he tries, “I don’t think I ever asked where you work.”

Fidgeting, Steve looks down at his ice water. “I’m on reserve.”

“For, like, the Army?”

“I can’t really — “

“Ahh. Well, uh, can you tell me anything or is it all a secret?”

Steve’s smile turns melancholy, and he still avoids Bucky’s eye, looking just to the left of them. Bucky takes a sip of his drink. “I can tell you that I worked with a team, and that we were — uh, Spec Ops.”

“Spec Ops?” Bucky coughs. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Steve shrugs, obviously uncomfortable. His shoulders are practically at his ears. _I’d love to ease that tension,_ Bucky thinks rather vividly. He almost physically shakes his head trying to dispel the thought. “Seriously.” It’s very apparent Steve doesn’t want to talk about his time in service so Bucky opts to talk about his own.

“I was a Ranger. It’s all pretty hush-hush for me too, but I can tell you at least that I was part of the 1st Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment. I was mostly in Afghanistan.”

“Afghanistan?” He tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. Bucky’s heart lurches at how _cute_ Steve is.

“Yeah,” Bucky says plainly. “You wanna talk about something else? Something we can actually talk about, you know? Though we should probably figure out what we want to eat.” He waves his menu.

“Of course,” Steve replies, all gung-ho. He flips his own menu open and peers in. “Oh, the Never Ending Pasta Bowl looks good.”

“Yeah? I think it might be too much for me,” Bucky says. Further conversation is delayed by the server arriving to take their order — Bucky orders first, deciding on a Tour Of Italy at the last second. Steve gets the Never Ending Pasta Bowl.

“Seven weeks of free pasta? Nice.” Bucky’s suitably impressed. “How much do you think you can eat in one sitting?”

Steve over exaggerates thinking, stroking a faux-beard. He smirks like they have an inside joke. Bucky scrunches up his nose, just a little. “Maybe...five?”

“Five? Dude.” Five’s a lot — Bucky certainly couldn’t pack that away, not at this age anyway. Maybe when he was still in high school, or in training. But the longer he’s been working for Stark, the more those abs he used to have have lost their definition. “That’s insane.”

Steve’s smile dims instantly, a blush blooming in his cheeks and spreading to his ears and neck. “Uh…I guess so. What about you? How much could you eat?”

Bucky takes a moment to seriously think about it. He wants to impress Steve, but not over exaggerate his skills at eating. “Probably, like, two. Two and a half on a good day.”

Steve chuckles, and it goes straight to Bucky’s head. _Oh my god,_ he thinks, _that’s the sexiest laugh I’ve ever heard._ Suddenly, he wants to hear it every day, as much as possible.

_No, no, Bucky, back up. It’s way too early for that,_ he reprimands himself.

He looks at Steve, just looks at him — his smile, his eyes, his crooked nose. Shit, he really doesn’t want to fuck this up. What’s a safe topic?

“What’s your favorite book?”

Bingo. Instantly, Steve lights up, like he’d just been waiting to let the real him out. He talks and talks about The Hobbit — gushes really, like a total fanboy, gestures unabashedly and tells Bucky his favorite parts, and Bucky can’t do anything but listen in fascination — until the server gets back with their food. Conversation pauses again as they start eating, and when Bucky looks up from his plate, he finds Steve looking shyly to the right of Bucky. When he speaks, his voice is soft, totally different from before.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk that much. I just got excited.” He shrugs, and it’s not a flippant movement, shoulders curling in again like he’s trying to make himself small.

Something tells Bucky that Steve doesn’t get excited nearly often enough. “No no, it’s fine. It’s kinda cute.”

Steve’s tongue peeks out to lick at his lip, chuckling again. It’s all too much for Bucky, who has to force his thoughts away from things it’s way too early for. Again. He has to do it _again_. What’s going on with him? Steve’s had a few weird moments, yeah, but if he knew what Bucky’s thinking….

“What about the Lord Of The Rings?”

“The Lord Of The Rings?” Steve parrots, confusedly taking a bite of his pasta.

“Yeah. Have you read the books?”

“No. Are they like The Hobbit or something?”

“Yeah, it’s the sequel. I read it when I was overseas — it could get pretty boring out there, you know? And it’s a super long book.” He squints a little. “You haven’t read the Lord Of The Rings? Dude, if you like The Hobbit that much, why not?”

Steve blushes again. “I was away for a really long time.”

“The book came out in, like, the fifties.”

“It was a really, really long time.”

Bucky doesn’t press anymore. Instead he asks, “You wanna play twenty questions?”

Steve smiles his agreement and it shines like the sun.

* * *

 

## April 24th, 2011

Work gets in the way of them going out again until the 24th. There are two security breaches in as many days, and Tony freaks out, and forces him and his co-workers to _fix it, stat, and you’ll all get pay raises_.

So Bucky spends his days in Stark Tower, doing the gritty job of finding the exact location of the breaches, what happened — namely, what could’ve been seen — and, renaming and reorganizing every single file that could’ve been part of the breach. His co-workers are writing new security updates. He kind of hates them. They get to do something engaging, while Bucky sorts through Tony’s old shit. The next picture of someone’s genitals he sees, he’s going to quit. How many people was Tony bedding a night before he was kidnapped, anyway? A hundred?

On his breaks, he eats the delicious food Tony provides — one of the few perks of working at the Tower — and texts Steve. They talk about a lot of random stuff, mostly their hobbies and work. Steve can’t talk about what he does, so he tells Bucky that his apartment is suffocating. Steve goes on walks a lot, to get away from it. Bucky tells him they should walk around a park sometime. _It might be fun_ , he texts.

Mostly, he can’t stop thinking about Steve. The date was great, ended on a high note with Bucky kissing Steve’s cheek in the subway station. Best of all, Steve had asked _him_ out, this time, and that butterflies in your stomach feeling? Apparently it doesn’t go away after you grow up. His stomach had turned steel while he was in Afghanistan, he’d been able to shut off his feelings, but Steve’s smile makes him feel soft and warm and vulnerable, but not in a scary way. Really, it’s exciting. Sitting in the same position for hours over a computer looking at things only he was trusted to look at — apparently Happy isn’t that great at computer stuff, or it would be him — is boring as all hell.

So his days are spent at the Tower, full of energy he can’t expend. Once he gets home, fatigue hits him like a freight train, and he’s out. And on what few free days he does have, Steve’s busy, going to some mandatory “readjustment” class he thinks is bullshit.

(Steve has a funny way of complaining. “It’s necessary, I guess,” he sighs. “Education is more important than entertainment, after all,” he concedes, dejected. “I appreciate their efforts,” he allows. Always in the same tone of voice like he’s being held at gunpoint to say something nice but backhanded. It’s hilarious.)

When the 24th rolls around, Bucky is more than ready to see Steve again.

They meet up outside Josie’s, which is Bucky’s number one pizza place. It’s close by, barely a fifteen minute walk, and Josie’s kids, the chefs, are all super nice. Josie and Bucky’s great-grandma Becca were friends way back in the day — it’s safe to say he goes there a lot.

“So just how good is this place?” Steve asks as they step inside.

“Good enough to buy the entire pie. Hey, that rhymed,” he laughs. Steve chuckles with him, but seems more preoccupied with the interior of the pizza place. It’s bright, lively — the black and white checkered floor contrasting against the fire engine red booths and stools at the bar. The walls are white, covered in pictures of Josie and her family. There are pictures of Bucky’s family, too — Great-Grandma Becca and Grandpa Jim when Grandpa Jim was just a baby, Grandpa Jim and Grandma Anne on their first date, and even Mom and Dad with May on her first birthday. Laura when she lost her first tooth biting into a slice of Hawaiian pizza. There’s even a picture of Bucky, when he came back from his tour and won the Three Pound Pizza challenge.

_Josie’d had a flair for the dramatics,_ Great-Grandma Becca has always said. _But she loved with her whole heart._ And if she loved you, you were on her wall.

Everything around them looks deceptively old — it looks just as the same as when Josie opened it in 1950, but everything from the tables to the wallpaper is new. The kitchen doesn’t fit the aesthetic, but it’s not like you see right into the kitchen from the dining area.

“This reminds me of Steak ‘N Shake,” Steve murmurs as they get in line to be seated. He eyes the pictures, a little too far to be seen clearly. He points, “Is that you?”

Bucky squints, but without a scope he can’t see that far. “I’m on there somewhere, yeah. I can show you before we leave.”

“Okay.”

Bucky smiles at him, not necessarily looking forward to seeing those pictures but willing to do it just to see Steve’s reaction. “What are you thinking tonight? I get the Family Discount so you can have however much you want.”

“I asked you out, I should pay,” Steve protests immediately, those not-Southern manners coming back in full force. “Even if you have a discount.”

“S’okay, they’ll give us the discount no matter who pays. But seriously, what are you gonna get?”

Steve, flushing just a little, peers at the menu on the wall. “Uh, the supreme?”

“Ooh, good choice.  Wanna split it?” He asks, looking at the menu himself. _It’s been too long,_ he thinks, work and helping Peter with his homework’s been keeping him away.

Steve clears his throat. “Yeah, sure.”

Josie’s great-granddaughter Carla comes up to them, then, with a, “Sorry about the wait. Table for two? Right this way.” She starts walking, and they hurry to keep up. She takes them to a table up against the wall, not a booth unfortunately but at least it’s not at the bar. Steve pulls Bucky’s seat out for him, very romantically Bucky might add. Once they’re both seated, Carla goes on, “Drinks?”

“Pepsi,” Bucky says automatically. Carla nods and doesn’t even have to write it down — he’s always gotten Pepsi. It’s practically tradition at this point.

“Water with a lemon?”

“Pepsi and water with a lemon, okay. Bucky, you want your usual?”

Bucky eyes Steve, who just looks back at him and tilts his head down a little. He turns back to Carla, who watches them with a knowing smile. “We were actually thinking about sharing a supreme?”

“You wanna make it a combo? With a dessert?”

“What do you have?”

“Ice cream, cake, pie. The usual.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll have some ice cream. Vanilla-chocolate swirl?”

Carla laughs, “Of course. And you?” She asks Steve.

“Uh, I’ll have the same. Thank you.”

She nods, smiling wide. “I’m Carla, by the way. I’ll be back soon with your drinks. And Bucky?” She waits until he meets her eyes to say, not even quietly because of course not, “He’s hot.”

He groans. “I know, Carla. Go get us our drinks.”

“Sir yes sir,” she teases, finally leaving.

“You two know each other well?” Steve asks, settling into his seat, a weirdly knowing look in his eyes. He’s wearing a button down again, fitting well with their surroundings. If he had a Jelly Roll, it’d be like he came right out of the 1950’s. He looks delectable, if Bucky’s being honest.

Sighing, he rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, we do. She was my first kiss, actually.”

Steve chuckles, smiling again. “Really? Doesn’t that get…?” He waves his hands around instead of finishing his sentence.

“Awkward? No, not really. We were, like, seven and it was on a dare from her older brother. It’s more of a joke between us now than anything.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Seven?”

“I told you I’ve been friends with the Flores family since I was born. Her brother was sixteen at the time.” Bucky shrugs. “He was just a kid. He’s apologized.”

Steve smiles at him kindly, opens his mouth to respond — and straightens up, looks towards the kitchen. Bucky follows his gaze, spotting Carla. She hurries over through the busy restaurant, carrying over their drinks. She grins at them as she hands over their drinks. “One Pepsi and one water with lemon. Your pizza will be done soon. You guys need anything in the meantime?” They both shake their heads. “Awesome, okay.” She gives them two thumbs up and hurries off.

Bucky takes a sip to stall his next question by a few seconds, making sure Carla’s out of hearing range. Steve squeezes the lemon into his water and sets it aside on his napkin. Giving in to his curiosity, Bucky asks, “Who was your first kiss?”

Steve’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open to form a small ‘o’. “Uh, it was a girl named Anna Marie Price. She was three years older than me.”

Bucky rests his chin in his palm. He wonders if Steve’s gay, or bi, or something else. “How old were you?”

“I was eighteen, she was twenty-one.”

“Wow, kind of late for a first kiss.”

“I was, uh, a late bloomer?” Steve says sheepishly. “I was...a lot smaller, I was sick, I didn’t have many friends. It was a joke between her and her friends, you know, who can kiss him first or something.”

He scoffs instantly. “Oh my god, Steve, that’s awful. They sound like terrible people.” He’s met some shitty people but goddamn.

He shrugs, takes a sip of his water. His shoulders curl in again, and for the first time, Bucky wonders if it’s because he used to be small. “It was a long time ago. I’ve gotten over it.”

Bucky somehow doesn’t believe that, but he won’t push. Instead, he says, “Wanna talk about something else?”

“Yes,” Steve breathes out in a rush, obviously eager to move on.

“Hmm, okay. What about…. What do you do in your free time? Any hobbies?”

Steve grins in a way that Bucky is quickly becoming fond of. It’s shy but excited. “I’m an artist? I don’t have a lotta time for it but whenever I can’t sleep I draw.”

They’ve talked about being unable to sleep. Bucky’s talked more at length, since his service was less classified than Steve’s, but they’ve both shared a few bad memories. Steve’s seen some horrible shit — he told a story once about a friend who was blown up right in front of him, and his voice had wavered heartbreakingly. Bucky doesn’t know all the details, but he can relate.

He doesn’t bring any of that up. He just thinks, _oh my god he’s an artist? He’s a creative type?_ He blurts, “Can I see? I mean, you don’t have a phone, so no pictures. Maybe...maybe next time?”

“There’s gonna be a next time?”

Bucky blushes, just a little. “Uh, yeah? I hope so, at least.”

“I’d like to go out again,” Steve quietly admits. They share another shy smile, and settle into their seats.

Carla comes by, then, with their large supreme pizza. She sets it in the middle of the table, being careful not to knock over their drinks. They share a few words, reassurances that they’re good, don’t need anything else. Carla leaves, and Bucky notices she gets stopped a few times on her way back to the kitchen.

He and Steve take a few minutes to eat — it’s damn good, Carla must’ve told Uncle David he’s here on a date.

Then — “So, can I see?”

“My art?”

“Mhmm.”

Steve shuffles in his seat. “It’s sorta...private. But I’ll find something I don’t mind sharing.”

“Don’t feel like you have to show me anything,” Bucky says, even though he’s eager to see. May’s always been the more creative one of the two of them, and he’s always been jealous. He’s also always been interested in creative types.

“Thank you, but I’ll be able to find something.”

“I look forward to it.”

They smile again, they can’t seem to stop but Bucky’s not complaining, and go back to eating. Over the pizza and, later, ice cream, they visit a lot of topics — space, aliens, and the merits of learning some languages over others. It’s one of the best nights Bucky’s had in recent memory.

 

* * *

## April 30th, 2011

Bucky knocks on the door twice, pauses, knocks once, pauses, and finally knocks three more times.

There’s a sound of bare feet slapping on hardwood floor, a hand falling onto the door as if Peter’s pressed his whole body up against it. The lock clicks, the door swings open, and then Bucky’s got seventy pounds of little boy hitting him right in the chest.

“Oof, kiddo,” He grunts as he pulls Peter up so he doesn’t fall. Once he’s up on Bucky’s hip, he wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck and squeezes, hugging. Bucky hugs back, smiling over Peter’s shoulder at May, who leans against the doorway and watches fondly. “Hey, Peter.”

“Hey, Uncle Bucky!” He pulls away a little, beaming. “Guess what? Guess what?”

Bucky can’t help his smile widening. Peter’s only his nephew through marriage but Bucky loves him so much. “What? What?”

“Wait a minute,” May cuts in, “let Bucky come in before you tell him.”

“Ugh,” Peter groans, but holds off until Bucky’s kicked his shoes off at least. “Ned and I learned in science class about reptiles yesterday, and — “

Peter goes on for a few minutes, going on and on about snakes and turtles and other animals that came to his class. He doesn’t pause to take a breath once, which is pretty impressive if you ask Bucky. He’s not much of a reptile guy but Peter’s so excited, it rubs off on him.

Once he’s run out of things to say, he pushes at Bucky’s chest, murmuring, “lemme down.” He runs off to his room, a whirlwind in Iron Man pajamas.

Bucky slumps onto the couch, already tired. Yes, he loves Peter, but the kid is tiring. “What’d he have for breakfast?”

She gives him a wry look, because of course, he knows the answer. “Cinnamon Toast Crunch, just like his Uncle Bucky.”

He throws his hands up and his head back. “I told you I was sorry about that.”

“Mhmm,” she sassily retorts. “Anyway, I’m sure he’ll be right back. You gonna spill?”

“If he’s gonna be right back, why should I spill? Shouldn’t we wait until Ben comes home and keeps Pete busy?”

She clicks her tongue jokingly, “Damn, you’re right.”

“Aunt May, that’s a bad word!” Peter cries as he runs into the room.

“Sorry, honey. You know how Uncle Bucky and I are.”

Wisely, Peter faux-whispers, “Adults who cuss allatime.”

Bucky corrects, “Hey, I don’t cuss all the time! Plus, it was your Aunt May who cussed, not me.”

Peter purses his lips and moves on. He settles half on Bucky’s lap and half on the couch, cuddling up close. Bucky slings an arm around his shoulders to steady him. “Are you gonna tells us about Steeeeve?” He sing-songs.

Bucky instantly looks to May, shocked that Peter knows about Steve. “You _told_ him?”

“Told him what? That you guys have gone a few dates now, and he’s super cute, and — “

“And you _totally have the hots for him_ ,” Peter quotes, clearly overjoyed to say it as he giggles the second he’s done talking.

Bucky drops his head to his palm, groaning, “Oh my god. May, you’re terrible.”

Very smugly, she answers, “No, I’m not. You’re terrible for making us wait this long.”

“Doesn’t Ben wanna know about this, too?”

“I’ll tell him, don’t worry,” Peter reassures, getting up on his knees and narrowly avoiding certain doom. Bucky winces. “Just tell us!”

“What do you wanna know about him?”

Peter snickers, but Bucky notices something in his eyes he can’t place. “Did you guys _kiss_?”

Bucky blinks incredulously, suddenly realizing how old Peter is. Or rather, how old Peter’s getting. God, how long has he been with May and Ben? Four years? He shakes his head, trying to get all the nostalgic thoughts out. He answers, “Yeah, he kissed my cheek. Not that that’s any of your business.” Peter blushes, hiding his face in Bucky’s chest. Bucky rubs his back, murmuring, “S’all right, Pete, but that’s sorta an adult thing.”

May adds, jokingly, “Who told you about kissing, anyway?”

Muffled by Bucky’s shirt, Peter sasses back, “You and Uncle Ben!”

Bucky laughs, imagining Peter reacting to a simple kiss. “Have they been icky lately?”

“ _So_ icky,” Peter agrees, finally pulling away. His blush is gone, but his hair is even messier than before. He isn’t smiling, though. If anything, with his brows furrowed, he looks worried. “Uncle Bucky?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Steve’s a guy, right?”

Bucky and May share a quick look; Bucky answers, “Yeah, he’s a guy.”

“Why did he kiss you?”

Bucky’s admittedly a little confused by the turns Peter’s taking, but he tries to power through it. “Well, uh, he kissed me because he likes me.”

“But you’re both guys,” Peter says, and Bucky tenses, finally getting it. This conversation has been a long time coming, and while some part of Bucky is relieved Peter will finally know, another part dreads it. Peter’s a little boy, and god knows what his friends are teaching him.

“We are. But that doesn’t mean we’re any different from guys who kiss girls, or girls who kiss girls. It’s all the same, Pete.”

“But — but Olivia said her parents said that it was wrong.” Peter snuggles in close again, asking innocently, “But _she_ was wrong, right? Not you?”

Stiffly, Bucky says, “Yes, she’s wrong.”

“So guys can like guys? And girls can like girls?”

Bucky pulls him into a hug — Peter reciprocates by wrapping his arms tightly around Bucky’s neck — murmuring into his hair, “Yes. Don’t listen to Olivia. Don’t let anyone tell you what to think.”

“Except me,” May cuts in, prompting a laugh from Bucky and Peter. “And your Uncle Ben, and Uncle Bucky.”

Peter disentangles from Bucky, and turns to face May just to roll his eyes at her. “Duh.”

“ _Don’t you ‘duh’ me_ — “

After several minutes of teasing, they settle again, Peter now tucked between Bucky and May. He flops so his head rests in May’s lap, his feet in Bucky’s, babbling about how much he laughed last time Ned drank Pepsi and got hyper.

May inconspicuously takes a picture. Bucky smiles wide for it. Peter doesn’t even seem to notice.

Peter winds down eventually, tugging at Bucky’s wrist.

“Hmm?”

“Does that mean you’re gay?”

“No, I’m bi. That means I like guys and girls.”

“Ohhhh.” Peter nods thoughtfully. “I don’t get it.”

Bucky just sighs.

**[...]**

Later on that night, Ben comes home and Peter tells him all about what he learned from Bucky. Of course, he mentions that Steve kissed Bucky about a million times, because he likes to press everyone’s buttons.

Ben chuckles and, at Peter’s request, gives Bucky a stern talking to that sounds a lot like, “Make sure you kiss him on the cheek more than he kisses you on the cheek.”

Peter giggles and very smugly says, “ _Yeah_ , Bucky, listen to Ben.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Bucky concedes, biting off a laugh.

Peter spends the rest of the night, through dinner, sassing all three of them, asking random questions and interrupting Ben’s stories of work with stories about Ned. May puts him to bed at eight-thirty.

Afterwards, May and Ben _do_ ask him about what really happened on the date. There isn’t time to go through it play by play like they want, but he tells them the highlights — sharing personal information, which has always been the most thrilling part of dating for Bucky, and how cute Steve was, and how they planned to go out again.

May smiles despite her facade of not caring — Bucky doesn’t know why she pretends not to care, but it’s just a part of her and of their relationship — and hugs him before he leaves for the night. He hugs back, always glad to hang out with her even if they talk everyday.

In his ear, she tells him, “We’re rooting for you.”

He laughs, and holds her tighter before letting go. “It’s only the second date, May.”

“I don't care, he’s cute, nice, and he makes you smile.” She laughs at his blush, because of course she does. “Be safe, and text me when you get home.”

“ _Okay_ , May,” Bucky huffs, faux-exasperated. Ever since their parents and younger sister moved to Connecticut, it’s like she’s entered full-on mom mode around him.

When Bucky gets to the door, Ben follows him, patting him on the back, and saying, “Good luck with him, man.”

“Thanks, Ben.” He pulls him into a quick hug, genuinely happy, and then, with a called (not loud enough to wake Peter), “Love you,” he’s gone.

* * *

## May 3rd, 2011

Their next date goes just as well as the last two — they walk around Prospect Park together, talking about anything and everything. They play twenty questions again, this time with the stipulation that it can’t be something general like “What’s your favorite movie?” twice in a row (in case you’re wondering, Steve’s is The Wizard Of Oz, and Bucky’s is, obviously, Jurassic Park).

Most of the generic questions they asked last time, anyway. This time, the questions were a little deeper.

“Alright, number three. Hmm. Would you be an artist full time, if you could?”

“I don’t know. I tried that right outta high school, and I have to say, it was more difficult than you’d imagine. There were lots of days I just didn’t have the motivation to draw.”

“I understand. Teenage depression and all that.”

“Mm, yeah. Anyway, my turn. Number three.” Steve hesitates, just a second, then, “If you don’t mind my asking, are you gay?”

Bucky, in the past, might’ve felt offended. But you live through DADT, and your skin thickens. Steve sounds curious, not like he’s waiting for an answer he can exploit. Bucky shakes his head. “No, bi. You? For my number four.”

“I don’t really know. I don’t know what any of it means, really, except gay. Um, what does _bi_ mean?” Steve’s face burns red, his shoulders up by his jaw. Bucky remembers not knowing, remembers not being sure who he could talk to, wondering if he was gay or straight or what. And his heart goes out to Steve, who seems to be walking blind.

“Well, first of all, bi is short for bisexual. Bisexual means that you’re attracted to both genders.” He pauses to gauge Steve’s reaction, but there’s isn’t much of one — Steve blinks and his mouth drops open just a little, but that’s all. “Sometimes, it’s not equal. Like, you can be more attracted to guys than girls, or the opposite. I don’t really have a preference of the two.”

“How did you figure it out?” Steve asks quickly, then realizes himself and shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry, that’s personal. I shouldn’t’ve asked.”

“Nah, it’s okay. This is your number five, though, so I’ve got next question.” Steve makes a noise of agreement, so Bucky continues, “I was fourteen. I kept having dreams about Adam Bryant from English class, having dreams about Jessie Ford from Math. I thought I had to pick who I was into, or something stupid like that. But then I realized I didn’t, that I liked Adam and Jessie just about the same amount.” He’d been tied up in knots over it for weeks, making pro and con lists, and examining his behavior around them both like some kind of sexuality scientist. When he’d finally given up the ghost, it’d been a huge relief. Bucky likes labels, likes knowing what he is and what he isn’t. And though he hadn’t had a label until a few years later, knowing that much about himself had been a comfort in and of itself.

“I think...I think I need to think about that. And learn.” He sucks in a breath. “You can go.”

Bucky almost wants to say something — wants to help, wants to be the person he’d wished he’d had when he was fourteen. But Steve needs to do this on his own, or at least wants to — if he needs help with anything, he’ll ask. And he’ll come to his own decision about labels and what he and what he isn’t.

Teasingly, Bucky asks, “So, I know about your first kiss. What about your first crush?”

Steve scoffs a laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Caitlin Murphy. Her mom was friends with mine, and she came over a lot when I was, oh, four or five? She was a little older than me, too, and I thought she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. She helped me learn English — “

“Wait, wait, you didn’t know English?”

“I did a little. My Ma was Irish. She could speak English, but she wanted me to know Irish. So I knew some things, but not a lot.”

“Was she born there?”

“What is that, your seventh question?” At Bucky’s unimpressed look, Steve laughs again. “Yeah, she was born there. She met my Da at university in Dublin. They got married and moved here. He died pretty soon after I was born, in the war.”

Bucky’s first thought is Vietnam, but that ended in 1975. The Invasion of Grenada maybe? That was 1983, wasn’t it? Steve’s only twenty-seven — the same age as Bucky — so Grenada makes more sense. But it still doesn’t add up.

He almost asks, _what war_ , but it’s not his turn.

“Number six, for me. Where’s _your_ family from?”

“Poland, originally. My great-great-grandma, Winifred, immigrated to America in like 1915? And she met and married my great-great-grandpa, George, and had a couple kids. All the other branches come from Europe.”

Steve turns his head sharply, squinting at Bucky.

“What?” Bucky asks just as sharply.

Steve shakes his head after a moment, “Nothing, I’m sorry. I’ll go again. Uh, who’s your favorite president?”

Bucky chuckles, “Well, it’s definitely not Buchanan. It sucks being named after him — I mean, yeah, he was probably gay but like, he was pretty useless.”

Incredulously, Steve blurts, “Buchanan was — nevermind. You’re named after him?”

“Not technically? My name is James Buchanan, but it’s after my grandpa Jim and my great-great-grandma Winifred’s maiden name. Everyone thinks he’s my favorite, or my parent’s favorite, or something. But really...I’d have to say FDR. He was president at such an influential time in America, and he got us through a lot.” Bucky runs a hand through his hair, thoughts turning to APUSH and how, of all the presidents, FDR had stuck with him the most. “Who’s yours?”

“Actually, I’d pick FDR, too. He — “ A loud ringtone interrupts him, and when Bucky says loud, he means it. The other people out walking, jogging, or playing all turn at the sound. A flush instantly blooms in Steve’s cheeks, since it’s evidently coming from his pocket.

“I thought you didn’t have a phone?”

“I got it a few days ago,” he half-explains, half-apologizes as he takes it out. His face pinches when he sees whoever it is. “I don’t really know how to work it. I have to answer.” He taps the screen way too hard, brings it up to his ear, and bites out, “Rogers.”

They keep walking, and while Bucky had been admiring the trees and scenery they passed, he now watches Steve. It’s easy to see a difference — he’s practically in parade rest, tense shoulders and spine, whole upper body not moving as he walks. Bucky’s own skin itches with the need to follow suit, to straighten out.

“I’m in Prospect Park. … Right now? … Yes, I’ll be by the front entrance. … Five minutes. Alright.”

Steve’s mentioned that his job — “on reserve” but not — has odd hours, but seriously? Nine in the morning on a Tuesday. That’s crazy.

Steve hangs up, apologetically glancing at Bucky. “I have to go in. I’m sorry, but I can’t say no.”

Bucky sort of, almost, wants to tell Steve to just skip out on it, to keep hanging out with him, _isn’t this fun?_ and _we’re only on question seven each, there’s so much more to talk about_ . But the responsible thing to do is let Steve go to work, and he knows it even though it’s not what he wants. “It’s okay,” he reassures, reaching out to smooth a hand down Steve’s bicep. (A small part of Bucky’s brain can’t help but catalogue that Steve’s ripped, _god he probably lifts twice his weight or something._ ) “It’s work. I understand.”

Relief visibly washes over Steve. He steps backwards, towards the entrance of the park, a hurried energy in his movements. “Thank you. I’ll call you? Tonight?”

Bucky nods, smiling though he hates that Steve’s leaving right in the middle of a date. “Sure. I’ll be waiting.”

“I hope so,” Steve calls, and then turns fully away from Bucky. Soon enough, he’s out of sight. Bucky sighs, and keeps walking.

* * *

## May 6th, 2011

Three days pass without a call from Steve.

Bucky cycles through anxiety and anger, as the possibilities swirl through his head — was Steve sent on a job? Is he hurt? Or is he purposefully not calling Bucky? He doesn’t think it’s the last option mainly because it’s Steve who's been pursuing him, who didn’t want to leave the park (and Bucky).

Still, his brain tells him Steve standing him up is just as likely as Steve being on a job.

Bucky forces himself to go through the motions of life. He can’t spend all day thinking about Steve, even if he wants to.

He works. Tony doesn’t call him in, and when he gives his daily report, it’s to JARVIS, not Tony. He talks to May and continues to wish she didn’t have a comeback for everything he says. He takes Peter and his friend Ned out for ice cream, and listens fondly as they talk about Star Wars. He even goes out to eat with some friends who he hasn’t seen in months.

Bucky wakes up on the morning of the 6th, groggy and hungry. He sits up in bed but doesn’t stand for ten minutes, then shuffles off to the bathroom. When he returns, he goes to his closet, deciding to get dressed first. But nothing is clean — the only clothes not in the hamper are long-sleeve shirts and stiff jeans he’s refused to wear for two years.

Ugh. He’s gotta do laundry today, doesn’t he.

He ends up wearing the last t-shirt in his closet, a plain white one with paint all over it from when he helped paint Peter’s room blue, along with the least stiff of the stiff pants. He walks around for a few minutes, trying to work them in. He empties his hamper into a big trash bag and regrets waiting to do it all in one go.

Eventually, he heads out, dragging his bag to Avenue J. The walk is nothing to write home about, though he does spend all thirteen and a half minutes cursing himself. When he gets there, he notices about five other adults, two teenagers curled up together, and several children running around, being watched by some of the adults. There are enough open washers that he can put all of his stuff in and start the machines at just about the same time.

He goes and sits in the nearest seats, three in a row, which are back-to-back with the ones the teenagers are in. They summarily ignore him; he pulls his phone out of his pocket and settles in, ready to play Temple Run for the next hour.

He’s there maybe fifteen minutes before shit hits the fan. And those fifteen minutes aren’t even good ones — one of the kids trips right in front of him, bites their tongue, and cries so loud and so long it gives him a headache, and the seat gets real old real fast, and the damn teenagers won’t shut up about Madi’s crazy boyfriend who got arrested at the dance because he spiked the punch.

There’s a TV in the corner, playing quietly, just loud enough for Bucky to know it’s a local channel, a sitcom that Bucky can’t quite place though it’s familiar on. It’s a background noise that Bucky’s tuning out one minute, and then — “Turn it up!” At the same time, a shrill ringtone cuts through the laundromat.

Bucky’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing instantly, pinpointing the shout to the guy sitting nearest to the front doors. He’d been flipping through a magazine when Bucky came in, but now he’s up on his feet and pointing at the TV. A stone sinks in Bucky’s stomach, and he thinks, _terrorist attack_.

But Jesus, no, it’s much worse.

_ALIEN INVASION_ , the caption of a news bulletin reads. The reporters are caught somewhere between fear and professionalism, a panicked edge to the woman’s voice as she relates, “A portal has opened up above Stark Tower — that is 200 Park Avenue in downtown Manhattan — and, as you can see from this civilian video, that aliens are exiting rapidly. There’s a perimeter in place to 39th Street. If you are in the area, you are advised to get underground as quickly as possible, stay out of the streets, and, most importantly, stick together.”

The man starts to talk, then, something about not fighting the aliens, Iron Man and some of his friends (or something) are fighting them. There’s a green monster there, the one that broke Harlem a few years back, and a guy with an honest to god cape and hammer like Thor. There’s a Captain America, even. They fight and kill the aliens, and get hurt right in front of the whole world.

There’s grainy video of all different angles, through windows and from the ground, dust and debris and _blood_ seemingly everywhere. Memories assault Bucky, gorge rising in his throat.

Bucky stands without thinking about it, moves stiffly to the windows at the front of the shop. Manhattan is pretty far off, at least a half hour drive, and yet, he can see the portal, the hole in the sky.

One of the kids step up next to him, pressing into the glass like Peter often does. (And god, Peter, Bucky’s throat constricts and he thinks, _I have to call May_ .) Then, between blinks, _everyone_ is looking out the windows.

“Oh my god. _Oh my god_ ,” the teenage girl says, stumbling back to her seat. Her boyfriend (they haven’t said each other’s names, but they’ve been calling each other ‘girlfriend’ and ‘boyfriend’) follows her, mute. One of the mothers grabs her two children and sits with them in her lap, hugging tight and whispering to them. The rest — the man who shouted, a worker, another mother and father with their child, and two other people around Bucky’s age — instantly start to panic. Heaving breaths and cries fill the air.

Bucky didn’t serve long, but he did live through the horrors of war. The sounds of panic are familiar to him in a way he’ll never forget — he responds instinctively.

“Okay, everyone, calm down.” No one seems to hear him, so he raises his voice, putting an edge to it he learned as a Sergeant. “Calm down!”

Everyone freezes and looks at him.

He takes a deep breath. _Calm down, Barnes, calm down. Follow your own damn advice for once._ “Listen. We’re nowhere near the portal, we’re safe. We all need to calm down.”

“There’s fucking aliens invading and you think we’re safe?” One of the young adults shouts, panic clear in his eyes.

“For the moment, we are safe. If they thought the aliens were gonna get this far, the perimeter would be this far out. And panicking about it isn’t gonna do any of you any good.”

“He’s right,” one of the moms says. She points at the TV. “It’s all in Manhattan. What’re they gonna do, come all the way out to Brooklyn? They’re being fought off.”

“Yeah? What if those guys fighting them die, huh? And the aliens do get out this far? What if they spread down the coast? We gonna be safe then?”

“Why don’t we worry about that when we get there,” Bucky snaps. “For now, you should be worried about calling anyone you know in Manhattan.”

The teenage girl suddenly gasps, “Oh my god, my _mom_ ,” and whips her phone out. Her boyfriend follows suit.

“Can they even get calls?” The other young adult asks fully, staring at the TV. “They’re either dead or underground, how are they gonna answer?”

“Some of them might be in the buildings, still,” the worker rationalizes. “Or on the streets.”

“If they’re on the streets, they’re as good as dead,” he says, starting to cry. He curls into himself, reminding Bucky of Steve, of men he served with who couldn’t deal with it all. “My wife’s out there. Oh my god.”

Several other say similar things — a husband, a parent, best friends. More than once, the calls don’t go through, which of course causes more panic.

Bucky’s throat tightens as he thinks about Steve. He has no idea where Steve is, if he’s in Manhattan or not. But he can’t just not check in, even if Steve hasn’t called in days. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, not having realized he’d put it away, intending to call Steve. It vibrates in his hand, making him jump — **May :P** is proudly proclaimed.

He slides to answer quickly, turning to look back outside.

“Bucky?” May cries the second the call clicks over. She sobs loudly, which is so unusual, Bucky is instantly tense. “Bucky, you aren’t in Manhattan, are you?”

“No, I’m in Brooklyn. Are you home? Did Ben go to work today?”

She sobs again. “Ben and Peter both stayed home today, thank god. And you, too. Oh thank god. _Thank god_.”

Bucky sniffles, suddenly overcome.

“I had no idea if you went to work or not. Oh my god, Bucky, if you’d gone to work today, I thought — I thought —” She starts crying even more, sucking in breaths.

“May, May, breathe. I’m okay.” She takes several deep breaths, quieting down. He just listens and reassures himself. A thought hits him then, and he asks, “Have you called Ma?”

They both seem to freeze, no sound coming over the line from either side.

“Oh my god,” May says again. “We have to call Ma.”

“ _You_ have to call Ma, I have to call Steve. I have no idea where he is, he could be right in the middle of it all for all I know — “

“Call him,” she demands, “but you had better call me right back."

“I will,” he promises. “I love you, stay home, okay? And tell Ben and Peter I love them, too.”

“I’ll tell them and you stay home too. I love you too. Call me!” She hangs up.

The sudden silence is uncomfortable. Antsy energy fills him, and he starts to pace, still staring out the window. It’s getting worse, more and more aliens, and a big ass snake thing that is so incomprehensible Bucky has to look away.

He looks away long enough to click onto Steve’s contact, and call him. He puts it up to his ear, and then he’s looking right back outside.

The phone rings and rings. He calls three times. Steve never picks up.

**[...]**

Bucky trudges home five hours after he left, his clothes all back in his bag. The streets are packed, full of people coming from Manhattan and people trying to get to Manhattan. He has to weave his way through everyone, and what was a thirteen minute walk becomes an hour walk. There are so many people in the streets crying and covered in dust and gunk, and the panicking is overwhelming.

Bucky ends up helping several people find the makeshift medical centers that’ve popped up in the wake of the invasion. He only knows where they are because there are text messages being pushed out to every New York phone number. May calls again, and he stays on the phone with her for half an hour, talking about Ma and how she’s been crying since the news broke, and apparently Dad has taken a Xanax, and Laura has been glued to her phone, obsessively checking the news.

When she gets off the line, he calls Steve again. No dice.

He waits to get home until he calls his Ma, specifically until he’s back in bed, under his covers. It’s stressful, making sure other people are okay and barely focussing on yourself, especially when the dumb guy you’ve gone out with several times won’t answer his phone.

Ma is hysterical when she picks up, which is approximately two seconds after the first ring starts. “James, oh my god, I thought you were dead, I thought you went to work today, I thought, I thought,” she starts off, wailing by the end. “James Buchanan Barnes, when things like this happen, you have to call me!” Then, accusingly and thankfully not shouting anymore, she demands, “What would’ve happened if you had been out there, and you died? If you’d called me, then I could have comforted you through your last moments. I could’ve said goodbye. But no, no, I had to hear from May that you lived — “

“You sound like you wish I hadn’t,” Bucky says, mostly to mess with her, but also to remind her to let him speak at some point.

She gasps. “James, of course I’m happy you’re alive. I’m overjoyed! I’m so happy you weren’t — “ She starts to get choked up again — “ _killed_ out there by those, those things. Oh my god, we’re coming up. I have to see you. I have to make sure you’re okay. I — “

“Ma, I was in Brooklyn the whole time. I was half an hour out from the perimeter. I promise, I’m fine.” Relatively speaking, anyway.

She sniffles loudly. “I don’t care, we’re coming up. As soon as we can.”

Bucky smiles despite himself, full of love for his Ma. “Okay, okay. But wait a few days, alright? God, we’ll be cleaning up for weeks.”

That sets her off again — she’d been so distraught the last time something like this happened — and he tries to shush her cries from a state away. “Ma, s’okay, I promise. We all lived.” He can’t make himself say everyone made it out, because they didn’t — already, the dead are being counted; already, the death toll is eleven people. Bucky’s brain won’t stop telling him one of those people might be Steve.

“I know, I know. Let me cry, dammit. I’ve spent hours watching the news, not knowing if you were okay, if you were dead, or what.”

It all devolves from there — Ma cries again and again, Dad is on the phone with May, but Laura wants to talk, and talk she does. He spends another hour in bed. Eventually, he has to pee and hangs up after a quick promise to call back.

He tries Steve again. No fucking dice.

The rest of the day is spent watching news on his TV and talking to Ma. More and more of the coverage focuses on the Avengers, and footage of them fighting. He watches every part where Tony’s on feeling anxious as hell, though he knows Tony’s alive. Watching Tony fall out of the sky and get caught by the Harlem Breaker makes him break out into a sweat, even though they’re just replaying it. The Captain America on the streets, Bucky takes as an impostor. A good hearted one, maybe, but still an impostor.

May calls to say that she, Ben, and Peter are going to come over tomorrow. He offers to come by their place, since it’s just easier, but he has more room and it sounds like she wants to stay the night.

Steve still does not answer his phone.

* * *

## May 7th, 2011

Bucky stays up all night watching the news. It shifts dramatically from recap to deathtoll to what the fuck just happened to reactions and support, and of course there are millions of people all over the world already donating to help rebuild New York.

He just lays in bed and tries not to think about anything, and then, very pointedly, thinks about the invasion, which leads to _what is my life_ , which leads to Steve, which leads to _he still hasn’t called_. Now, Bucky knows Steve doesn’t have any living family, and he seems low on friends. So why hasn’t he called Bucky? Bucky’s called enough times that he feels awkward, like he’s imposing.

He calls again, unrepentant, because Buzzfeed has already released a list of victims and Steve isn’t one of them. He could be one of the people buried in rubble, of course, but if he’s not, he really has no excuse to not call Bucky back. The weird thing is, this time, it doesn’t ring for a solid minute and disconnect — no, it clicks after two rings and Bucky hears a small noise from the other side.

“Jesus, Steve, are you okay?” He blurts, reminding himself uncomfortably of his Ma. “I’ve only called you ten times since this morning. Where were you? Please don’t tell me you were in Manhattan.”

“Uh. I...wasn’t in Manhattan?” Steve mumbles, seemingly placating Bucky.

Bucky rolls over, good and exasperated, even if the relief he feels at hearing Steve’s voice is insanely high. “Tell me the truth, Steve.”

“I was in Manhattan. But I’m fine. I got a little hurt, I was sort of thrown onto a car, but I’m okay. I promise I’m alright.” Steve takes a deep breath, ready to continue, but Bucky cuts him off.

“Where are you now? I’ll come get you.” Bucky jumps out of bed, biting off a groan at how stiff he is. He starts towards his door.

“You don’t have a car,” Steve points out.

Bucky slides on his shoes and jacket, grabs his keys. If this were a different situation, of course he’d suggest the subways, but they’re down. The tunnels closest to the center of the fight — closest to work, shit — have all been closed. “No, but I can walk. So where are you?”

“I’m...I’m on 9th Street, by Prospect Park.” Steve listens as Bucky leaves his apartment and locks it up for a moment, then says, “You don’t have to come get me. I’m fine.”

“Steve, you said yourself that you got hurt. Just stay where you are, okay? I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

He sighs. “I’m gonna head to Prospect Park. I want to sit down.”

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky heads that way, a weird feeling in his chest — a mix of anxiety and happiness that Steve’s alive.

**[...]**

They stay on the phone while Bucky hoofs it to the park. Steve asks him where he was, and if May and Ben and Peter were okay. They talk, a little bit, about what Manhattan looks like now. The streets are ripped up, covered in debris, in alien corpses.

After a pause in conversation, Bucky asks, point blank, where he’s been the last few days. Steve says, “Work. Reserve means that they can call me to work whenever they want.”

“I _know_ that, Steve, I’m not an idiot. I was just...I was worried.” He groans, rubbing at his forehead. “You didn’t call for days and then a fucking alien invasion happens, and now you’re hurt? Jesus.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” He sounds genuinely sorry, which makes Bucky’s chest warm, if only slightly.

“There’s no reason to be sorry, Steve. Just — just give me a minute, okay?”

“You’re a minute away?”

Bucky looks around, taking in the few people still out and about. “No? I’m about ten minutes away.”

“Oh.” Steve sighs, creaking sounds like he’s settling down on a bench.

“Steve, are you — how hurt are you? What happened?”

Steve hesitates. A stone drops in Bucky’s stomach, expecting the worse. “Like I said, I got thrown onto a car. And I was running a lot. I’d rather...I’d rather just tell you in person.”

Bucky keeps walking, still anxious about everything but excited to see Steve. It feels like it’s been weeks since they last saw each other. “But you said you’re okay, right? Not gonna die?”

“No, I’m not gonna die. Not before I see you, anyway.”

“Steve! That’s not funny!” Bucky snaps, unable to hold down a laugh. “You _asshole_.”

Steve chuckles. “Sorry, just a little bit of gallows humor. Gotta say, it’s nice to hear that. My co-workers aren’t all that friendly.”

“That’s terrible. _You’re_ terrible. What, me calling you an asshole is nicer than whatever your coworkers call you?”

“Well...yeah, actually.”

“Steve, I think you maybe need a new job, or at least new coworkers. I would hate being on reserve for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t really say no, Bucky. It’s — complicated. Anyway, are you almost here?”

“Yeah, just about. What part of the park are you in? I don’t want to search the place for you.”

“I’m at the northern corner, closest to Manhattan.”

“Okay, I’m coming from the south, Flatbush direction.”

“I can meet you in the middle of the park, by the Boathouse?”

“Steve, that’s not the middle of the park. Should you really be walking that much?”

Steve huffs into the phone. “Said I’m fine, Buck.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Bucky mutters. “How about the Music Pagoda instead?”

“You’ll allow me that much walking? How generous of you,” Steve sasses. He gets up from his bench, making a noise as he stretches. It goes straight to parts of him he doesn’t want to acknowledge right now.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” They walk in silence for a few minutes, just breathing into the phones, until Bucky gets into the park. “Why didn’t you call me?” Bucky asks hesitantly. “You said you’d call that night, and you didn’t. Have you been working the whole time?”

“Well...yeah? Kinda?” He can hear Steve sigh. “Honestly, this phone is so new, I forgot to take it with me when I left. It was sitting in my room until this morning. And then with the aliens, I got kinda busy. I only remembered to grab it after it was all over.”

“You came all the way out to Brooklyn just for your phone and went back to Manhattan?”

“No,” Steve says, sounding confused.

“Do you live in Manhattan, then? I thought Brooklyn was home.”

“No, I just, uh, I have a room in Manhattan for work? When they want me to stay nearby. I can explain it later if you want.” Something changes in Steve’s voice when he says, “I can see you, you just passed under a streetlight.”

“I can’t see you,” Bucky replies, scanning the path ahead of him. Steve steps under a light and waves. “Okay, I see you now. I’m gonna hang up now, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says. Bucky shoves his phone in his pocket and denies later that he breaks into a jog just to get to Steve quicker. His first look at Steve in three days is nothing to write home about, but it makes Bucky’s throat tighten with emotion. He’s the only one around, shrouded in shade from the trees.

Bucky smiles so wide it hurts.

It’s like every romance movie ever made, then — they both start towards each other, meeting in the middle. Bucky can’t help himself from hugging Steve tightly, relishing in the warmth and feeling of Steve.

Steve groans through his teeth, and Bucky jumps away, keeping a hold on Steve’s biceps.

“Okay, where are you hurt? Show me.”

Steve sheepishly shrugs. “My stomach, my ribs. My legs are sore. I — what are you doing?”

Bucky unzips Steve’s jacket, sliding his fingers over Steve’s ribs. Whatever he’s wearing under the jacket feels bumpy, and hard; he can’t feel Steve’s ribs. “Checking for injuries. What the hell are you wearing?” He pulls Steve’s jacket apart enough to look, and  —

“Bucky,” Steve says, urgency coloring his tone.

He’s wearing red, white, and blue, a white star on his chest, blood on his stomach. Bucky lets go as if he’s been shocked. “ _Steve_ — “

“Bucky, I — “

“Were you fighting the aliens?” His voice sounds hollow, alarming Steve, but he can’t find it within himself to care. “Dressed up as Captain America?”

“I wasn’t dressed up as Captain America,” Steve weakly corrects.

“So what? You’re Captain America? His clone? What?”

"No, Bucky, I'm not a clone, just — bear with me for a moment, please? This is going to sound kind of insane but I swear I'm telling the truth."

Bucky fully expects some bullshit, and he crosses his arms accordingly. But then Steve tells him about crashing the Valkyrie, and freezing not to death but to sleep — suspended animation, he says — and waking up just _days_ before he met Bucky. His co-workers are the Avengers, and work is, apparently, doing whatever the fuck SHIELD wants. By the end, Steve is dragging a hand through his hair and Bucky feels like he’s dreaming. It doesn’t seem real at all, but it _is_ — Bucky doesn’t believe Steve’s making any of it up, or lying.

“Can I go sit down?”

“Yes, of course,” Steve says, ushering him to a nearby bench. They sit, thighs pressing up against each other, because Bucky may be shocked and a lot of other things but he wants to be reassured that Steve’s with him.

For several minutes, they’re silent, thoughts swirling through Bucky’s mind. Then — “Did you expect to start a relationship without telling me who you really are? Because I thought we were moving towards that, and if you thought you could lie and it’d be okay? That’s — that’s not okay, Steve. God, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that if you knew, then you’d treat me differently, and everyone treats me like I’m made of glass, like I’m not a real person. You treat me like I’m real, Bucky, and I just wanted to be real for once.” He shakes his head at himself. “I’m so sorry, Bucky, I know that’s not an excuse. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Okay.” Bucky can understand that — if he really is Captain America, it would make sense that everyone treats him like a figure in their history books. It would make sense that he’d lie about his identity. But that doesn’t make it okay. Bucky isn’t sure he can continue going out with Steve, knowing that he lied and was okay with lying.

“Okay?” Steve asks hesitantly.

“Okay as in, I need to think for a minute.”

Steve gives him a sweet smile that makes Bucky’s stomach jump. He doesn’t smile back, but he pats Steve’s knee, trying to reassure him that it’s not quite over. He just needs to think, and decide if he wants to take a break, or break it off completely, or forgive him.

He doesn’t _want_ to end this right now, when it’s just beginning. He’s never felt this way about anyone before, he’s never had the same chemistry. His relationship with Steve — unlabelled, brand new — is one of the better things about his life right now. But Steve lied. So what does he do? Does he just give it all up right here? Or does he forgive Steve? God, he wishes he could talk to Ma, or May, or Ben, or somebody. Anybody, really, would be good right about now.

“Steve?”

He jumps, looking over to Bucky from where he’d been staring at his feet. “Yeah?”

“You got any other secrets I should know about?”

“Uh. I was shot by an alien? And I was born in 1918, not 1984. And most of the stories about me in the history books aren’t true, or embellished.”

“Huh,” Bucky says. He pauses, again, thinking. “What do you expect from this, Steve?”

Steve reaches out for Bucky’s hand, curling their fingers together. When he looks at Bucky, his eyes are big but he doesn’t look pleading. “I want to date you. I hope that we can become...boyfriends, one day.” He shrugs, smiling a little shyly. “In all honestly, I’d like to kiss you again.”

Bucky swallows hard. He’d like to kiss Steve again, too. But first, he has to check if Steve’s _really_ okay. The light from the streetlamp casts enough shadows on Steve’s face that Bucky can’t quite see any bruises. He reaches out hesitantly, gently grabbing Steve’s jaw and moving his face into the light. He instantly sucks in a breath through his teeth, “Jesus, Steve.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m healing already.”

“And your gunshot wound?”

“It’s...healing. Slower.”

“How long does it take for you to heal?”

“Bruises heal faster than being singed by an alien gun.”

_Makes sense,_ Bucky thinks, concern twisting in his stomach. And there it is — the reason he’s going to forgive Steve. He doesn’t _want_ to let Steve go, and he’s still concerned for him. But...it’s not quite enough.

“Do you promise to never lie to me again?”

Steve nods, fingers tightening. Bucky clutches back. Genuinely, with all the gravitas of Captain America, Steve says, “Yes, I promise.”

“Then...I can forgive you. But no more secrets, okay?”

“Okay, no more secrets.” Unconsciously, they start to move in closer. “I can do that.”

“Me, too,” Bucky whispers, leaning in so their foreheads touched. Steve brings his free hand up to Bucky’s jaw, thumbing at his cheek. Bucky gasps, just a little. “Kiss me, idiot.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve chuckles, finally kissing Bucky on the lips.

* * *

## June 11th, 2011

Steve looks great on Bucky’s bed. Bucky’s sitting next to him, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, suffering from a summer cold. Steve, of course, is dressed in his old man clothes of khakis and button down. Bucky, reassured by the fact that Steve won’t get sick, is leaning up against Steve’s arm. It’s very comfortable, and Bucky’s gonna be upfront about the fact that he’s exploiting it.

“So, are you finally gonna show me?”

Steve mumbles, “I’ve already _shown_ you some of my art, Buck.”

“Well yeah, but not this art. This art is special.”

“Because it’s of you?”

“Yes, because it’s of me. Duh.” He pokes Steve in the abs, half to touch Steve’s abs, and half to get Steve to hurry up. He’d shown up with a folder and refused to show Bucky until they were settled in bed, because he’s a dork. And now they’re in bed but he’s still taking a long time. “Hurry up.”

Steve laughs, fiddling with the folder. _Asshole’s doing it on purpose_ , Bucky thinks, making an attempt for the folder. Steve thrusts his arm out, blocking Bucky. “Uh, uh, uh. Wait a second.”

“For what?”

“I want there to be some suspense.”

“There’s enough suspense,” Bucky whines. “I’ve been waiting in suspense for days.”

Steve very obviously rolls his eyes, and pushes his arm into Bucky’s chest enough to jolt him a bit. Bucky just clutches his arm closer. Steve opens the folder, while Bucky makes drumroll noises.

When it’s flipped open, Bucky instantly gasps and reaches for it.

Exasperated, Steve says, “ _Bucky_ , let me show you.”

“No, no, I wanna see it.” Steve has told him several days ago that he’d been drawing Bucky since the day they met. The past few days, he’s been sick, so Steve’s been more focused on that than sharing his art. But now that Bucky’s feeling better, he doesn’t want to focus on anything else. And the top piece? It’s of him on the subway, dressed like a hipster with his coffee.

Steve lifts it up, holding it out to him. Bucky is very strictly not to touch the drawings — Steve is super anal about them, and Bucky wants to see so bad, he’s not gonna go against the one rule. He’s allowed to look as much as he wants, though.

The drawing is charcoal, no colors, and it’s of him right before Steve approached him. He’s wearing his tightest pants and looks so stressed and tired. “Oh my god, you saw that and thought ‘I wanna talk to him’?”

“I saw that and thought, ‘Wow, he’s cute. I wanna talk to him’,” Steve corrects. “And after we split up, I went home and drew this.”

“That’s so hot,” Bucky tells him, imagining Steve going home and making this, unable to stop until it was finished. “What’s next?”

“Wait, why is that...hot? What does that mean?”

“It means cute. And because? You’re so creative and it’s crazy that you can just...make this?” Bucky coughs, throat suddenly dry, and Steve rubs his back. Bucky feels a familiar rush of affection for Steve. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just hot.”

Steve meets his eyes, grinning and blushing on the apples of his cheeks. His eyes drop to Bucky’s mouth, then to his drawing. He gently puts the top one back in the folder, face down. “Next is when I met May and Ben for the first time.”

Bucky notices, as he always does, the way Steve stumbles over Ben’s name. He doesn’t bring it up, though, because he has so much more to focus on. Like how Steve’s depicted him in this drawing.

They go through all the drawings within an hour, bantering and flirting. The entire time, Bucky is in awe of how good Steve is, both at actually making the art and at making Bucky look super hot. It’s very flattering.

The most recent is of their latest date, where they went to the Met. On the paper, Bucky’s staring at a piece of art that Steve hasn’t bothered to draw. He looks...radiant, gorgeous, even.

“Goddamn, Stevie, you’re amazing,” Bucky sighs.

Steve beams at him, pressing his lips to Bucky’s cheek. Bucky preens shamelessly, turning his head so Steve kisses him on the mouth. They take a moment to kiss, even though Bucky’s still sick.

Bucky starts to lean back, more interested in making out than thinking about that.

“Let me go put these away, and I’ll be right back,” Steve mumbles against his lips.

Bucky throws his arms around Steve’s neck, and pulls him down with him, saying, “No, stay with me.”

“I don’t wanna ruin the drawings. They’ll crumple.”

Bucky promptly lets him go. He absolutely does not want to harm those in any way, to the point he’s willing to stop making out like a teenager to keep them safe. “You better come right back,” he warns as Steve pops out of bed. He grabs the folder and hurries to his bag in the living room.

“I’m just putting it on top!” Steve calls.

Bucky resettles himself, moving up the bed so that his head rests on the pillows. Already, he feels like Steve’s been gone too long. Being sick apparently makes him clingy. Steve comes back then, cheeks flushed and beaming at Bucky.

“Close the door,” Bucky says impulsively, folding his wrists under his head. Steve drags his gaze up and down Bucky's body, eyes darkening. He closes the door without looking, and anticipation makes Bucky swallow hard. “C’mere.”

“Yessir,” Steve repeats from earlier, strutting back to the bed. _Oh my fucking god,_ Bucky thinks. _He’s_ _so hot._ His breathing gets heavy as Steve gets a knee on the bed.

Then, Steve crawls up the bed. Bucky can’t breathe from how delicious his boyfriend looks.

Steve throws a meaty leg over Bucky’s hips. Bucky sucks in a breath, feeling a little overwhelmed and like his head was still off; he has the presence of mind to grip Steve’s tiny hips.

“Come _down_ here,” Bucky requests, desperate to get back to kissing.

Steve doesn’t respond except to settle his palms next to Bucky’s shoulders and lean down to rock Bucky’s world.

* * *

## July 4th, 2011

Steve’s birthday surprises Bucky, both because he thought the whole July Fourth thing was a joke, and also because he’s at work when he realizes it’s not. They’ve got plans to lie in bed and watch a movie from Steve’s list — a Date Night In — but shit, it’s still a Date Night. He doesn’t even have a present. Shit.

“There an issue, Barnes?” Tony calls as he breezes by the door to Bucky’s office. He pauses and backs up, leaning against the doorway. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I forgot it’s my boyfriend’s birthday. I don’t have a present, and our date night starts in,” he checks his watch, “like, two hours.”

Tony crosses his arms. “How could you forget your own boyfriend’s birthday?”

Bucky narrows his eyes, not in the mood for Tony’s shit. “You’ve forgotten Pepper’s birthday every year I’ve worked here.”

“And then I have time to get her an extravagant make-up present.”

“You let her buy a present for herself, you mean. And you don’t pay me enough to pay my rent _and_ buy him the kind of extravagant present you’re thinking.”

“I don’t? You’re getting a raise.”

Bucky sighs and drops his head into his palms, caught between exasperation and anxiety and happiness that Tony keeps giving him raises. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Go buy your boo a Rolodex, or something.” And then, as quickly as he came, Tony is gone.

_Shit,_ he thinks again.

**[...]**

Most of the stores closest to the Tower — in the process of being legally renamed the Avengers Tower — are either full of disgustingly patriotic items and nothing else, or were closed entirely for the holiday. There’s a CVS and a Rite Aid, both of which are not options. Steve, he knows, will be happy with any present Bucky gives him, but Bucky has standards. Steve deserves more than some bullshit from a CVS.

Google tells him there’s a flower shop, Mary’s Flowers, conveniently next to an art store, Ink Gallery, right by Grand Central Station.

Bucky goes to Ink Gallery first, an hour and a half until he has to get to Steve’s place. Everything looks fancy and breakable, and he has no idea what a lot of it is. But once he finds the notebook section, he feels a little better.

There are all kinds of notebooks, and Bucky picks randomly. It’s leather-bound but not too expensive, and the paper looks nice enough. He pays as quickly as he can, and goes next door.

The lady behind the counter at Mary’s Flowers has a rant prepared and no one to give it to, so he’s stuck listening to all the different kinds of flowers and their meanings. Bucky ends up getting chrysanthemums, gardenias, heathers, and gladioluses with baby’s breath and greenery _to make it prettier_. And then, once he leaves, there are so many people out, waiting for the show, that it takes him forever to get to Grand Central.

By the time he’s on the train, he’s huffing and puffing and texting Steve, _I’m gonna be a little late_. Of course, texts don’t go through underground. He spends the whole ride jiggling his leg and trying not to crush the flowers. Someone asks who they’re for, and though he hates talking to people on the subway, he responds, “Date night.”

He’s an older man, and Bucky knows better than to just say, _oh they’re for my boyfriend_.

Bucky’s forced to make small talk with the guy until he gets off, then rides the rest of the way in peace.

Of course, the walk to Steve’s is also full of traffic. By the time he gets there, the fireworks have started — Bucky has to fight off a flinch every time one goes off. He goes up the elevator to the fourth floor, trying to hide the notebook behind his back. He knocks on Steve’s door with his knuckles.

Steve opens the door a few seconds later, in parade rest. His eyes are red around the rims.

Bucky’s already saying, “I’m sorry I’m late, I tried to text you but there’s no service in the fucking subway,” but the tenseness in Steve’s body pauses him halfway through. “Uh, are you okay?”

Steve clears his throat, smiling widely. It doesn’t go to his eyes. Concern blooms in Bucky’s stomach. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are those for me?”

Bucky glances at the flowers. Suddenly, it’s sort of embarrassing that he picked ones all about romance and love. “Yeah. It’s your birthday, of course they’re for you.”

Steve reaches out and takes them, then presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and lets him inside. Bucky maneuvers around Steve to keep the notebook hidden, managing it long enough for Steve to get the flowers into a vase.

“What’re you hiding behind you back?” Steve asks, verging on teasing.

“Oh, s’just a present for my best guy,” Bucky teases back, still concerned about Steve. Steve turns and leans against the table, gripping the edge so he doesn’t fall. Not that he would — he’s got crazy good balance.

“Lucky guy, if he’s got you.”

Bucky tries to smile, but he can’t quite manage one. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay or not? Remember, don’t lie.” He hasn’t pulled that one out yet since that night he found out, not like this. He jokes, sometimes, about no lying. But this feel serious, and he isn’t sure what the cause is.

Steve tenses even more, which doesn’t seem possible. His shoulders curl in, and he looks right to the floor. He drags a hand through his hair, messing it up adorably (or, as adorably as he can while he looks so anxious).

“Uh, it’s the fireworks.” He breathes deeply, chest and shoulders rising with it. “They sound a lot like — bombs. And I haven’t had to...I haven’t heard them since before I got recruited. I’m okay, it’s just difficult to deal with.”

Shit, Bucky didn’t even think of that. And it’s so obvious — Bucky’s still struggling with it, and Steve just came out of World War Two. Of course it’s still bad for him.

Bucky advances on Steve, putting the notebook on the table haphazardly. He pulls Steve into a hug, arms tight around his boyfriend’s waist. Steve is stiff, not responding to the embrace, until Bucky squeezes and whispers, “C’mon, Steve, lemme hug you.”

He melts, then, wrapping his thick arms around Bucky’s back and squeezing. Bucky rubs circles into the dip of Steve’s lower back, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

They stand there for a few moments, just breathing in each other’s scents and relishing the closeness. Steve takes a shuddering breath, and some part of Bucky thinks, _finally_. He doesn’t know if Steve’s cried since he woke up, but Bucky’s never seen it happen, and Steve has never mentioned it. And if this is the first time, Bucky can give him all the support he needs.

He doesn’t shush Steve, or rock them side to side like Bucky’s Ma used to. Instead, he just burrows closer and whispers, “I got you, I got you.”

Steve doesn’t sob, and he doesn’t weep. He makes no noise except for a few more billowy breaths that puff against Bucky’s neck hotly. But he cries, he lets some of it out for once. And Bucky continues to rub his back and talk to him and not make him feel weak.

Eventually, Bucky’s legs start to feel numb, so he suggests they go to bed. They have to pull apart, and the sight of Steve’s tears makes Bucky’s heart constrict in his chest.

“I don’t know if I want…,” Steve starts.

Bucky does shush him, then, saying, “Steve, I didn’t expect so. It’s alright. Let’s just go lay down, okay?”

“But your present, I didn’t see — “

“We can worry about it tomorrow.”

Steve nods, letting it go, and leads Bucky to his room. The impersonal nature of it all strikes Bucky as it has every time he’s come by, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. He focuses on getting Steve more comfortable — helping him strip him out of his pants and button down, finding sweats for Steve to pull on — and into bed. He follows suit, kicking off his shoes and taking off his pants but leaving on his t-shirt.

The fireworks are over by now, replaced by the usual sounds of the city. No one can shoot off their own in Steve’s neighborhood, so it’s over. But Steve is still shaken up, and Bucky’s still interested in hugging him. Or cuddling, whichever.

“You wanna be the small spoon?” Bucky asks, only partly joking.

Steve shakes his head, and gently pushes Bucky onto his back. Bucky goes willingly, trusting Steve. He lays himself on Bucky’s chest, then, with his head over Bucky’s heart. “Just like this.”

“Alright,” Bucky responds softly, combing Steve’s hair out of his face. It flops irreverently onto his forehead. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“I want this,” Steve mumbles, “Just this.”

“Fine by me.” Bucky settles, or tries to, at least, unused to having a big body on him like this. Admittedly, it feels nice — it feels like a step in the right direction, a milestone.

It’s so nice, he falls asleep easily enough, shifting just a little so Steve’s not right over him. When he wakes up in the middle of the night to Steve gasping from a nightmare, they sit up, and change positions a little, so Steve’s lying just his head on Bucky’s chest, arm curled around his waist. It feels amazing — it feels like love.

## September 5th, 2011

Bucky’s rewriting a code some newbie messed up when Steve calls. He picks it up without looking, positive the only thing wrong for this section is that he’s missing a semicolon. It’s held between his ear and his shoulder. “Hello?”

“Bucky?”

“Mm?”

“Uh, are you working right now?”

“Yeah. Gimme a second and I’ll take a break. I just have to...find...this damn semicolon — there! Gotcha.” He fixes it quickly, then pushes away from his desk and stretches. “Okay, Stevie, ‘sup?”

Steve chuckles nervously, over the sound of Tony in the background saying something incomprehensible. “Before I tell you, you have to promise you won’t get mad.”

Bucky sits up straighter. “What happened?”

“Uh — “

Suddenly, the phone is away from Steve’s mouth, because he can hear both Steve and Tony talking, and then, Tony nearly shouts into the receiver, “Your boyfriend is Steve Rogers?”

Bucky winces and pulls the phone away from his ear. Tony rants for several more _minutes_ — Jesus Christ, Tony, don’t you ever shut up? — only stopping when Steve finally wrenches the phone back.

“Bucky, I’m sorry. He smelled blood.”

“You’re damn right I did! I — “

“Will you tell him to shut the fuck up and give Tony the phone back?”

Steve says to Tony, “He says to shut the fuck up and he’ll talk to you.”

Bucky snickers, proud of Steve — Tony never expects Steve to cuss, so when he does, it renders him speechless. The phone passes hands again, and Bucky starts, “Look, Tony, I know you’re my friend and you’re Steve’s friend — “ _hardly_ , he wants to scoff, because Steve’s told him all the shit he said on the helicarrier “ — but we didn’t have to tell you. Okay? Our relationship wasn’t and will continue to not be your business. So why don’t you calm the fuck down and stop shouting at Steve.”

“Bucky! How long has this been going on? How did I miss this? Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“Did you not hear what I just said? I said it’s none of your business.”

“I’m gonna find out, anyway,” Tony threatens.

“With your creepy robot?”

“ _And_ I’ll tell JARVIS you said that about him.”

Bucky sighs deeply, rolling his eyes. “We started dating in April. We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want to. It’s that easy.”

“April?” Tony shouts again.

Bucky pulls the phone away from his face and hangs up. He texts, _Steve, I’m not mad. Call me when he’s done._

Steve — he hopes it’s Steve, at least — sends back the thumbs up and heart emojis.

**[...]**

Three hours later, Bucky comes out of a Code Trance to find fifty-six texts, most from Tony, and several from two numbers he doesn’t recognize.

One number’s sent nineteen texts, all varying forms of _You’re Cap’s boyfriend??? What the hell?? I thought he was as straight as the narrow path, or whatever that saying is. Congrats, bro!_

Tony has sent thirty five, which are varying forms of _I’m gonna fire you for not telling me. Or demote you. Or something. You have to be punished for this. I can’t believe you and Cap are boning. Or wait, are you boning him, or the other way around?_ with several emojis.

The other unknown number’s only sent two, _James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10, 1984 in Brooklyn, NYC, to Thomas and Angela (Baldwin) Barnes. Two sisters, May (Barnes) Parker, born November 15, 1980, and Laura Barnes, born December 19, 1998. Signed up in March of 2002, as soon as you could. Ranked up quickly. Got honorably discharged in August 2005 as a Sergeant. Immediately used the GI Bill to go to school. Attended Brooklyn College and majored in Information Technology. Dating Captain Steven G. Rogers since April._ and _If you hurt him, I will kill you, and no one will ever know._

Bucky texts back the first number, _His sexuality is his own business._ Tony gets, _This is an HR violation._ The stalker number gets, _Yup that’s me. Which one are you? And rest assured, I have no intentions of hurting him._

_I’m gonna wait to react,_ he decides, unsure what to think. Then he calls Steve, despite wanting Steve to call first earlier. Steve picks up after the first ring, again over a lot of background noise, “Buck?”

“Are you coming over later?”

“Can I?”

“Always,” he practically vows. “Can you bring ice cream? Your crazy co-workers have tired me out.”

“Oh, jeez, what did they say?”

“Well, Tony threatened to fire me because I didn’t tell him. One number said they thought you were straight and said congrats. The other number threatened me after telling me way too many details about my life.”

Steve sighs. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to them. Yeah, I’ll bring ice cream. What flavor do you want?”

“Neapolitan.”

“Alright. I’m stuck here for another hour, I’ll text you when I leave, okay?”

“Yeah. See you,” Bucky replies, just before Steve hangs up. Bucky takes a moment to putter around his apartment, use the restroom, and get something to eat. He plops back down in his desk chair, dreading going back to work.

_Only another hour and you can take a break,_ he tells himself, pulling his headphones on. _One more hour._

**[...]**

An hour later, he is _not_ done.

Steve lets himself in with his key, and apparently putters around the apartment for fifteen minutes before Bucky even notices. When he does, he feels guilty — he’s spent all day working and barely dealing with anything and now Steve’s being so nice, putting on his favorite show and making him ice cream.

Steve assures, “It’s fine, Buck, you have to work.”

Bucky slumps down on the couch, taking a bite of his ice cream. Thank god for Steve. “But I also have to spend time with you.”

Steve smiles fondly, kissing him on his forehead. Bucky leans into it. “I talked to the others. Clint and Nat were the ones that texted you. They’re not going to again.”

“They can text me, just not...I need to meet them, first.”

“Yeah, I understand. We can go out to eat with them someday, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky says, snuggling into Steve’s side and taking another bite. They settle, eating and watching for a while. He doesn’t really take in anything, thinking. “We should tell May.”

Steve glances over to him. “Because Tony found out?”

“How did he find out, anyway?”

“He kept pestering me about going out on dates with his ‘friends’. So I told him I’m dating someone already, and it just devolved from there. He figured it out, somehow. I know we said we wanted to wait until we told people….”

“S’alright, Stevie, Tony is like that. But we really should tell May. She’s gonna be pissed that she found out after them.” At Steve’s surprised look, he adds, “They’re like your family, she’s mine.”

The smile Steve shoots his way makes Bucky’s heart warm. “Do you want to right now?”

Bucky glances at the clock on the wall, and it’s not too late. Peter should be asleep by now. “Yeah, lemme get my phone.”

A few minutes later, they’re settled back on the couch and Bucky’s pulled up FaceTime. May answers soon enough, smiling happily to see them. “Hey, May!”

“Hey, Buck. Hi, Steve.”

“Hey, May,” Steve replies, faux casual. He’s always been uncomfortable about his identity, and sharing it around. His smile is more Captain America than Steve Rogers. “We wanted to talk to you about something.”

She flops onto her couch, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? What about?”

“Is Ben there?” Bucky cuts in, not wanting to exclude his brother-in-law.

“Ben! C’mere,” May calls, hushed. “Bucky and Steve have _news_.”

Ben comes onto the screen, then, looking a little ruffled. “Are you guys finally going to invite us on a double date? Or watch Peter so we can go on a date?”

Bucky chuckles, “Nope. Actually, it’s about Steve.”

Super casually, May asks, “Oh, that he’s Captain America?”

Steve and Bucky both freeze, blinking. _How did they find out?_ Bucky wonders. “Uh — “

Steve talks first, voice hard. “How did you find out?”

May and Ben share a look, communicating without words. May replies, “Bucky, you told us you and Steve were having some issues but were working it out after the Battle. Then Captain America reveals he’s the real guy, the real Steve Rogers. It’s not like it’s not easy to figure out.”

“But only if you know you,” Ben adds. “You can’t put it all together unless you have all the pieces.”

Steve breathes out heavily. Bucky watches, concerned. He’s sensitive, and Bucky never wants to push too far, especially concerning his identity. “Steve, why don’t you go...get us more ice cream?”

He stands stiffly, taking the bowls and going to the kitchen. Bucky’s left on the couch, leaning up against nothing. When he looks back at May and Ben, both of them had pinched expressions.

“Did we upset him?”

“No,” Bucky sighs, flopping all the way down. “No, you didn’t. You just shocked him, s’all. He’s alright. Been a long day.”

Ben wraps his arm around May’s shoulders. “What happened?”

“Tony found out we’re dating and has been insufferable since. He threatened to fire me because I didn’t tell him.” He rolls his eyes. “We wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t feel left out.”

“What about Peter?”

“We’ve been waiting to tell him until we got Steve’s permission,” May adds, because she is awesome.

Bucky’s eyes widen as he thinks, _shit. Peter. What am I gonna do about Peter?_ “We can’t tell him yet,” he blurts. “He’ll tell Ned, and Ned will tell his parents, and his parents will tell their friends, and it’ll be on the news within days. Oh, god, and Ma. I have to tell Ma.”

Immediately dismayed, May warns, “She’ll be just as bad as Peter and Ned.”

“I know, I know. I’ll have to tell her how serious it is.”

“Code Red?”

“Code Red,” Bucky repeats. He tilts his head back, sensing Steve coming back into the room. He grins toothily, though he’s dreading talking to his parents. To May, he complains, “Laura doesn’t even know the significance of it yet. How can I trust that she won’t tell anyone?”

“Threaten to come out there and embarrass her in front of all her friends?”

“Oh, that’s evil. I like that.”

“Should I be concerned?” Steve jokes, smile still a bit flat.

“No, we’re just talking about Laura, and how I have to tell my parents that your day job is being Captain America.” He laughs at the way Steve cringes instantly, telling May and Ben, “We’re gonna hang up, alright?”

“Yeah. Good luck with Ma.”

“Thanks. Love you, sis.”

“Love you too, bro.”

Ben says, “I also love you, idiot,” just before May waves and hangs up. Of course she has to have the last word by hanging up first.

Bucky looks at Steve again, who’s leaning against the doorway chomping at ice cream.

“So, your parents?”

“Yeah. We don’t have to call them tonight, if you don’t want to.” He sits up, beckoning Steve over. Steve clambers onto the couch, throwing a leg over Bucky’s lap. Bucky immediately starts massaging Steve’s foot, knowing how tense his whole body can get. “They haven’t told anyone, and they aren’t going to.”

“I know, I heard.” Steve spoons some ice cream into his mouth, seemingly shaking himself out of his funk. “Let’s call your parents before it’s too late.”

Bucky eyes him but doesn’t push. If Steve says he’s good — verbally or not — then he’s good. Bucky trusts him. “Alright. FaceTime or just a call?”

“If you FaceTime her, we’ll be here all night.”

“Okay, smartass, coulda said ‘just call her’.” Bucky pulls up her contact and presses call, putting it on speaker. “After this, you wanna go get Thai?”

“Of course,” Steve replies, having loved Thai food ever since Bucky introduced him to it on a date. Bucky’s Ma picks up, then, and Steve calls, “Hi, Mrs. Barnes!”

“Oh, hi, Steve! How are you?”

“I’m doing okay; how are you?”

Bucky’s Ma proceeds to talk for several minutes about her day. Work is just as dramatic as it’s always been; Dad has already started putting up fall decorations; Laura broke up with her boyfriend and has been crying all day long.

“Ma, you know I exist, right?”

“James!” She calls in that loud, singing voice she always uses when she’s talking to people she wants to impress. “Hi, baby. I’m so glad you finally called me. It’s only been _months_.”

He drops his head into his hands. “Jeez, Ma. May calls you way less than I do.”

“No, she calls five times a week and she has a child. You do not. So why don’t you call me? Why don’t — “

“Mrs. Barnes, we called you because we have some news,” Steve cuts in, thank god. “Is Mr. Barnes there? And Laura?”

“News?” Ma cries. “Tommy, get in here! Laura’s still upset, I can tell her later. What is it?”

“Ma, can’t you wait until Dad’s there, at least?”

“He’s right here, James, say hi, honey.”

“Hey, Buck,” Dad says over the line. “What’s this news?”

Bucky shares a look with Steve, trying to convey that his parents are crazy. Steve smiles knowingly. “First, you have to promise not to tell anyone. None of your friends or enemies or whatever. No one. Okay?”

Something about Bucky’s tone has his parents sobering. His Ma answers, “You’re safe, right? Did you get involved in drugs? Is that why you haven’t visited us in months?”

“No, I didn’t get into drugs, oh my god. I have a full time job, that’s why I haven’t been by to visit. And yes, we’re safe. Just promise me.”

“I promise not to tell anyone,” Dad says first, quickly followed by Ma.

Steve clears his throat, and says, “I told you I’m on reserve, but that’s not exactly true. I’m...I’m Captain America.”

There’s a pause.

“Honey, now is not the time for jokes.”

“It’s not a joke, Mrs. Barnes, I really am Captain America.”

Ma suspiciously asks, “James?”

He doesn’t sigh, because he honestly expects this of her. “Ma, would I ever lie to you?”

There’s a pause as she no doubt thinks back to the nineties, when she was always asking Bucky what May was _really_ doing. He always told the truth. “...No. But — “

Dad cuts in, “Steve, James. This isn’t funny. What’s your real news?”

Now, Bucky does sigh. “I promise you, we are telling you the truth. Come up here and meet him if you have to.”

Steve starts to say something, but Ma steamrolls, “Oh! Yes, okay! How about Friday?” She follows up with millions of plans, all of them unavoidable.

By the time Thai food comes, an hour has passed and yes, they’re all coming up on Friday.

* * *

## September 9th, 2011

The night before Ma, Dad, and Laura come up, Bucky’s so anxious — Ma’s a control freak, but so is he; letting her take the reins is difficult after they’ve been apart so long — he can barely fall asleep. When he does, he has nightmares that wake him up multiple times. By the time dawn rolls around, Bucky’s gotten so little sleep, there’s no use. Steve slides down the bed and tries his best to make Bucky calm down.

He succeeds.

Ma calls him at nine, to tell him that they’ll be waiting until Laura gets out of school to come up. “We should be there by four.”

That has Steve pacing and making backup plans like this is some sort of military operation that has to be carried out in precise detail. Bucky wastes no time in pulling him onto the couch to cuddle; they turn on Chopped and try to relax.

Bucky dozes, which seems impossible. Really, the whole day leading up to Ma, Dad, and Laura arriving is a blur — between getting everything ready, freaking out and calming down and helping Steve do the latter, and receiving text after text from May about Ma, he’s exhausted.

“Why did we have to tell your Ma, again,” Steve complains while Bucky uses the vacuum hose to get the dust off the ceiling fan.

“Because your awful friends found out about us, and I had to tell my awful sister, and I couldn’t leave out my parents, that’s why.” He reaches out to steady the blade, grunting when it moves away from him. He almost gets cracked in the head by another blade. “Ugh. Steve, help me.”

Steve stands, hopping onto the couch and holding it steady. Bucky quickly sucks the rest of the dust away, but it doesn’t stop them from sneezing when a piece floats down. “What’s next?” Steve asks.

“Uh...bathroom?”

“Can’t we pull the curtain and hide the shower?” Steve plops back down onto the couch.

Bucky gets down from the coffee table carefully, shaking his head. “No, Ma’ll just look. She’s got no idea what boundaries are. Or privacy.”

Steve winces appropriately. “We were so poor, my Ma and I shared everything. There was no privacy at all.”

“I do love your Great Depression stories, Steve, but stalling isn’t gonna make the bathroom clean.”

Steve groans goodnaturedly, swinging his ridiculously long legs off the couch and following Bucky to the bathroom in a march.

They clean up until there’s only half an hour left, then panic about what to wear. Eventually, Bucky throws up his hands and declares, “It’s just my family, not the Queen of England. I’m not dressing up for them. Forget it.”

God, why’d he say they could come down here if they didn’t believe it? What a dumb thing to do.

**[...]**

By the time Ma and co. arrive at Bucky’s front door, they’re presentable — Bucky did end up getting dressed up, much to his chagrin — and no longer bickering.

Bucky opens the door, not about to let Steve face the shitstorm first. Ma’s dressed like she’s about to meet, like, Jesus, or somebody on a similar level. Dad is dressed like Ma told him what to wear, and Laura is wearing her best fall look. They don’t talk nearly as often as he and May do, but he knows she’s already crazy about fashion.

“James!” Ma calls way too loudly considering how close they are, and throws her arms around his neck in a hug. He hugs back, happy to see her even though she’s acting like the biggest drama queen on the planet. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

“You, too, Ma.” He disengages to greet Dad and Laura, who are both excited to see him, as well. Laura hides it pretty poorly, but what teenager is good at hiding their feelings?

Ma slithers around him to Steve, who had stood a ways away from the door at Bucky’s behest. All he hears is, “You must be Steve,” and Steve’s nervous Captain America chuckle.

He turns, cutting Dad off, and goes straight to Ma. “Ma.”

“Not now, James, I’m trying to meet your boyfriend.”

“Ma, let’s all just go to the living room. You can meet him there.”

“But — “

“Angela,” Dad saves the day, gently laying a hand on Ma’s arm. “Obviously, he wants us to go to the living room. Come on, let’s give the boys a moment alone.”

“They’ve had _all day_ to be alone — “

He ushers Ma out, but Laura isn’t that easy to get rid of. She comes to a pause next to Steve and Bucky, peering at them like she’s Sherlock Holmes.

“You look like Captain America,” she observes. Without waiting for a response, she continues, “I’ll be in there. Don’t take too long, okay? Ma’s been acting like this since you called.”

“Ugh. Okay. Just give us a second.”

“Sure,” she shrugs, and leaves.

Bucky turns to Steve, what must be a comical look of horror on his face. “She’s even worse than usual.”

Steve loosens, laughing and pulling Bucky into a hug. “It’ll be okay, we can survive a dramatic mother.”

Bucky tightens his hold before letting go completely. “You’re right.” He sucks in a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

They hold hands as they walk in, prompting Laura to roll her eyes and Ma to give them heart eyes. Dad looks on somewhere between approvingly and curious.

“Okay, everyone, give me your phones.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t tell anyone about this. You’ll see why.”

Laura grumbles but hands her phone over; Ma and Dad don’t fight it.

The conversation goes something like this: Steve says he’s Captain America and Laura immediately does not believe him; he proves it to all three of their guests by pulling out the shield, which gets them on board quickly enough. Laura is instantly skeptical, though, and asks a million questions — can you bench press a car? How much did movies cost when you were a kid? What were the names of the USO girls? What was London like in the middle of the war? How are you alive? Is that story on the news true? Did you really fight aliens?

Once she finally gives in, Laura does not protest not being able to tell anyone, but Ma does.

“Your father’s snooty cousins would _die_ if they knew,” she tries. Then, “What about your grandparents? They deserve to know, James.” She goes through all the cycles, and says she wants to be able to tell her friends her son is in Captain America’s league.

He has a lotta fun telling her that May already knows, and that they’ll tell all the grandparents on their own time, and no, it doesn’t matter if her friends and Dad’s snooty cousins think he’s amounted to less than their sons, because he clearly has.

They go out for dinner, and then Ma, Dad, and Laura go to visit May, Ben, and Peter.

Bucky flops onto his bed and tries to savor the moment alone. They’ve survived Ma this long, they can handle another day. But he just needs to relax for a moment. Steve agrees, as he flops right on top of Bucky and snuggles in.

“Your Ma is...she’s wonderful,” he says, sounding sincere in a Steve Rogers way.

“What? Honey, you can’t be serious.”

“I am. She’s overbearing but in a good way.”

“There’s no way for overbearing to be good.”

Steve shakes his head as much as he can with his head that close to Bucky’s chest. “Nope. Ma’s are great at being overbearing in a good way.”

Bucky doesn’t have much to say to that, because, well, Steve’s not wrong.

After a long moment, Steve adds, “My Ma would’ve loved you.”

Bucky pets at the back of Steve’s head, smoothing the hair down. He’s not in the best mood for gushy or sad emotions right now, but he can try. He doesn’t particularly want to think about how he has his Ma, and Steve doesn’t have his. He doesn’t want this to be sad. “I think I would’ve loved her, too. And, for what it’s worth, I think my Ma has had a crush on you since she was a kid.”

Steve sits up on his palms, shifting so he’s more on top of Bucky. “That’s weird. That’s very weird.”

“Well, at least you know she likes you,” Bucky jokes.

Steve groans, and falls back onto Bucky’s chest, nosing at his jaw and sucking a hickey onto his neck. A very visible hickey. All the ones Bucky gave him this morning are already gone.

“Fuck you, Steve,” Bucky half-laughs, half-moans.

“Not enough time,” Steve jokes back.

Bucky thinks, _god I love him_ . And then — _wait. What?_

## October 17th, 2011

Steve lets himself in, as he often does — _maybe,_ a part of Bucky’s brain says, _we should just move in together._ They’ve been dating for six months and are going strong. But most of Bucky thinks it’s too soon, can’t help but revolt at the idea of giving up personal space. Just to contradict himself and his jumbled feelings on the matter, seeing Steve come in using his own key makes Bucky’s chest feel warm.

He’s trying to clean up the living room — he can make a surprising amount of trash without Steve there to both help make the mess and then clean it up — when Steve comes home. Bucky turns around, ready to drag Steve to bed after a week and a half apart.

But what he finds is very different from what he expects.

Steve has a goddamn neck brace on, with bruises covering seemingly every inch of his face. His left wrist is in a cast. Breath catches in Bucky’s throat, and his heart starts to hammer, thinking of how Steve got those injuries. His nightmares are full of scenes of Steve getting hurt so bad there’s no recovering, even with his healing, but he’s never been seriously injured.

Without thinking about it, Bucky hurries to Steve’s side and blurts, “Steve, oh my god, did you leave the infirmary early?”

A confounded look passes over Steve’s face. “Huh? No, I was there the past few days. I stayed as long as they told me.”

“Well, you look like you got hit by a truck. Are you sure they let you out?”

“Um, yeah?”

“What happened, anyway? Seriously, Steve, you’re a mess. I’m worried,” Bucky says honestly. Steve goes to sheepishly rub the back of his neck and pauses when he encounters the brace.

“Well, you know that mission I went on?”

Bucky’s face falls into a resting bitch face, because no shit, he knows the mission Steve went on. “The inescapable drug cartel mission that interrupted make up sex? Yeah, I know about that.”

“Yeah, so, I got … jumped and I got hurt. But only a little — it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“A little?” Bucky asks incredulously. “Steve, this is more than a little!”

“It’s really nothing to get worked up about, I’ll be fine,” Steve says, trying to brush it off. He repeats, “It’s not nearly as bad as it looks.”

“Steve! You are in a _neck brace_ . There is a _cast_ on your arm. Your face is one big bruise. You usually bounce back from things like this like it’s nothing! If it’s been days, how fucking bad were you injured? What aren’t you telling me?”

Steve sighs, big shoulders rising and falling with the breath. He tells Bucky the truth, how he’d been dropped down a flight of stairs and somehow completely snapped his wrist, and then he got thrown into a brick wall and his neck broke, and he was technically dead for like ten seconds. He adds in how he got his bruises on his face — apparently some jacked up asshole hit him so hard with pipe that his face got that bad. By the time he’s finished Bucky feels like his knees might give out, and his hands are shaking. “But it’s not a big deal,” Steve tacks on like the _fucking asshole_ he is. He shifts on his feet, nervous energy running through him.

“Not...not a big deal?” Bucky repeats faintly. He’s hyperventilating, he notices distantly. “Steve, you died! You could’ve stayed dead and then what would I do? How would I have found out?” Bucky's eyes are burning, and he swipes at them angrily, feeling wetness on his cheeks. Fuck. He doesn’t want to cry right now.

“Bucky…,” Steve tries, reaching out gingerly. Bucky jerks back before Steve can touch. Steve’s face crumples immediately, but Bucky can’t feel bad.

“You can’t just throw your life away like that! You have people to live for, like me!” Some part of Bucky realizes that, while they communicate pretty well, they’ve never had this conversation. They’ve never talked about Steve’s job, and how it affects them, their relationship. They should’ve by now. Bucky’s feelings about Steve being Captain America are complicated and jumbled up inside him, and he needs to get them out.

“It’s my job, Bucky. You know that this is what comes along with it. Why are you so upset this time?”

“Why am I so upset?” Bucky repeats incredulously, anger boiling in him. Steve must be fucking concussed if he doesn’t know why Bucky’s upset. “You’ve never been this hurt. You died! I’m upset because I love you, you idiot!”

It doesn’t dawn on him what he says until he’s slammed the door to the bedroom and locked Steve out. But even then, his first thought is that he’s left Steve to fend for himself, injured, in Bucky’s living room. He sighs and drops his head against the door, banging it a few times for good measure. Shit, shit, shit.

He just said I Love You for the first time, didn’t he. All the anger blows out of him like an exhale, leaving in its place a million other things.

He unlocks and opens the door, guilt and anger and anxiety churning in his stomach. Steve is sitting slumped on the couch, head in his hands. Bucky comes out hesitantly, not wanting to fight again, unsure what to do now. What do you do when in this situation? Why did he say that? Why couldn’t Steve have just let Bucky freak out without downplaying his injuries?

“Steve?”

Steve lifts his head, rubbing at his eyes and wincing as he presses on his bruises. “Bucky.”

Bucky leans against the doorway, voice not quite hard. “I felt bad leaving you out here alone when you’re this injured. Just come get in bed.”

“Are you — “

“Yes, I’m still mad at you.” He sighs heavily. “Do you need help getting up?”

Steve shakes his head, clambering to his feet. He pauses, visibly dizzy, and Bucky’s stomach clenches again. He goes and helps Steve get into bed, despite everything. It’s shocking to see Steve against his bedsheets, with his bruises and cast and brace. He looks like shit. Bucky’s only thought, on a loop, is that Steve was dead, and he would’ve never known.

Would Tony have told him? Or would he have found out from the news cycle? If he didn’t find out like that, would he have thought that Steve left him under the guise of a mission?

Jesus. He wipes at his eyes again, turning away from Steve and settling on the end of the bed. He can’t help his chest heaving, breaths getting deeper and raspier as his eyes heat. A sob tears out, unbidden.

The bed creaks behind him, and Bucky can just tell it’s because Steve is sitting up, reaching for him again.

“Don’t,” Bucky grinds out, gasping.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve implores, crawling toward him.

“Steve, lay down before you hurt yourself even more,” he snaps. “I’m fine. Just lay down.”

“No, not unless you lay down with me.”

Bucky turns to stare defiantly. “No.”

“Then I guess I’m not laying down.”

“Like hell you aren’t. You’ve said it before, healing hurts. So just _lay down_ , rest.”

“ _Buck_ , you’re crying,” he points out like Bucky isn’t well aware. “C’mon, come up here.”

“No,” Bucky says petulantly, some part of him wanting to just give in and let Steve comfort him. Though, really, it should be the other way around. It should be him comforting Steve; but Steve is in the wrong here.

Two desires — to stand his ground, and to go lay down with Steve — war inside him. It suddenly all feels like way too much, and he drops his head into his hands again.

Steve takes matters into his own hands, getting up out of bed completely. He holds onto the side, though, and sits next to Bucky, busted wrist on the opposite side. Their thighs press together, and some other part of Bucky reminds him that he hasn’t seen Steve in a week and a half, has barely even talked to him since he left. And now he’s back, and they’re fighting.

He’s right to be angry, he _knows_ he is. But Steve died, and they’ve been apart so long that they shouldn’t be fighting. They should be having reunion sex.

The issue is, he’s still angry. The way Steve is so nonchalant about his own safety gets under Bucky’s skin in a way not much else does. He _loves_ Steve — he just shouted it at him, after all — but waiting around for him to throw himself into the jaws of death isn’t good for either of them. It can’t keep happening, especially not to this extent.

Which means they need to talk about it, and somehow, someway, Bucky has to convince Steve to actually give a shit about his health. It’s not like Steve’s shown a propensity for that at any point in their relationship.

He wraps his arm around Steve’s waist, giving in. Steve tries to burrow down into Bucky’s embrace, but it’s not easy. Neither of them are small, though Steve valiantly tries to be.

“C’mon, let’s get under the covers. We have a lot to talk about.”

They don’t get undressed, if only because Bucky’s scared being even partially nude might distract them and take away from the conversation. It’s weird to be this close to Steve, in bed, and not be sleeping or doing other things. They’re just looking at each other, waiting for the other to start.

Bucky gets sick of it quickly, and decides to go straight to the heart of the matter.

“Steve, why don’t you care about your safety?”

Steve rears back like Bucky hit him, face turning to stone in seconds. “Bucky, I _do_ care about my safety.”

“No, you clearly don’t. How hurt were the others?”

“What does that have to do with — “

“Just answer the question.”

“Tony sprained his wrist. Clint got a concussion. Natasha got stabbed, but it was shallow.”

“And you...you broke your neck, you broke your wrist, and got a concussion. Were you all doing things that were more or less dangerous? Because that’s the only way you can justify this, and even then, you shouldn't be picking the more dangerous option.”

“Why not?” Steve starts, but Bucky really is in no mood.

“Why not? Because you aren’t invincible, Steve, even if you think you are.”

Steve sobers, but Bucky doesn’t feel any satisfaction from getting through to Steve. “I know that,” he mutters.

“If you know that, then why are you so reckless? You know better than this, Steve, and I know you do because you never got this hurt during the war.”

“I died at the end of the war,” Steve points out, not helping his case at all.

“Exactly. But before that, you _never_ got hurt. Ever. So, what? Why aren’t you taking care of yourself out there now? Do you have a death wish or something?”

Steve freezes like a deer caught in headlights. Ice shivers through both of them as the implications of that race through their minds. Bucky thinks, _oh my god. Of course._

“Steve — “

“Bucky, I’m not — suicidal,” he almost spits the word out.

But god, he is, isn’t he? Has he recovered at all from fighting in the war? Has he talked to anyone? Bucky knows he has a therapist SHIELD’s providing him, but Steve doesn’t like the guy. Beyond that, Bucky’s invited Steve along to Mike’s open group therapy sessions, but Steve always declines.

“It’s okay if you are,” he blurts out, terrified that Steve’s going to get up and kill himself at any moment. It’s nonsensical but he can’t help it. “I mean, if you’re suicidal, it’s not okay — it’s okay, it’s normal — not normal, but — “

“Well, I’m not, so it doesn’t matter.”

He tries to roll over, but only ends up rolling onto the cast. Bucky reaches out, pulling Steve onto his back.

“Do you think, maybe, you’re depressed?” He asks hesitantly. “Because that is completely normal, for, like, all veterans.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Bucky’s heart is in his throat. “What about you?” He asks quietly.

“It was really bad when I got out. You know I still go talk to Mike whenever I have the time to.”

“But...what did it — how did you know?”

Bucky sits up, scooching closer with a sigh. “I didn’t like what I used to like, and I didn’t talk to my old friends. I slept a lot. I could barely eat sometimes. I had nightmares every night.”

Steve looks away, rolling his lips. They both know he has nightmares all the time, even when they don’t spend the night together. Sometimes he just stays up all night, it’s so bad.

“I’m not, Bucky. I’m not depressed or suicidal.”

“Steve — “

“I’m not!”

Bucky throws his hands up. “Fine. I’m not gonna make you realize anything. But if you ever feel like you’re going to kill yourself, or want to, or anything, _please_ , call me, no matter what.”

Now Steve shrinks in on himself. In a whisper, he asks, “What about...not caring?”

“I’ll always care,” Bucky vows strongly.

“I meant. What if _I_ don’t care.”

They stare at each other. It takes Bucky a moment to realize what he means and then — “Steve, not caring if you die or not is a good indicator that you’re depressed.” Steve starts to sit up, but Bucky pushes at his shoulders. “ _No_ , lay down. Jeez, how many times do I have to say it before you actually listen to me?”

Steve huffs. “Fine, fine, I’m laying down. But you have to, too.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but flops onto his back.

They stare at the ceiling for a while, thinking. The only thing going through Bucky’s mind is how he’s gonna be able to get Steve to accept that he needs help. He can’t force Steve to do anything, especially something like this. And what about PTSD? Steve knows about it, but he’s probably denying that, too. God, what’s he gonna do?

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“You said you love me.”

Bucky tenses, stupidly unsure what Steve’s reaction to that is. He rolls onto his side to look at Steve. “Uh. Yeah, I do. I love you.”

Steve smiles, and despite everything that’s happened today, Bucky relaxes. “Well, good,” he says, “I love you, too.”

Bucky smiles so wide it hurts, and attempts to kiss Steve senseless. Turns out it’s pretty hard to give kisses when you’re smiling, though.

* * *

## November 24th, 2011

It’s really nice to sit around with his family, eat, and talk shit about people.

The not nice part is that Steve can’t be with Bucky and his crazy family.

By now, Bucky’s grandparents and great-grandma Becca all know who Steve is.

(“Grandpa, he’s Captain America.”

“What?”

“My boyfriend is Captain America!”

“Captain America? He’s dead.”

“Grandpa, you’re sixty-eight, not eighty. Cut this shit out. You know he’s not dead.”

“I do,” Grandpa James conceded. “Do we have to keep it a secret?”

“Yup. We’re keeping it a secret for now.”

“Now, Junior, you know better than to be with someone who keeps you a secret from the world.”

“If anyone finds out, we’ll both be hounded by press _and_ he’ll be forced to come out. We decided to keep it a secret together.”

“Oh, alright. Can I tell your grandma?”

“Yeah, of course. But make sure she doesn’t tell anyone. Tell her...tell her if she does, the next sweater she knits me is going in the trash.”

“She’s going to want to know if she can knit Steve a sweater,” Grandpa pointed out.

Bucky sighed. “Yes. She can. As long as she doesn’t tell anyone.”

“Got it. Don’t tell anyone, and they’ll both wear your sweaters and not throw them out.”

“Grandpa, don’t say it like that!”)

(Great-grandma Becca had just said, “Bucky, you are not to tell him about my crush on him when I was a girl. Absolutely not.” Bucky _had_ told Steve, just so he could hear Grandma Becca yell, “James Buchanan Barnes, that is _it_ , you’ve crossed the line.”)

Of course, everyone expects Steve to show up at some point, thought really, would Bucky have left Brooklyn without him if he was coming?

After being asked several times, Bucky finally says to the whole table, “Listen, no, he’s not coming. He had some Avengers thing.”

“Is it televised?” Ma asks slyly.

May, of course, butts in, “Yes, it is! Let’s all go watch it.”

Bucky watches in horror as everyone moves to the living room, moving all the dishes to the coffee table. His parents and grandparents sit on the couch and chairs, leaving Bucky and the rest of them to settle on the floor. To watch his boyfriend co-host some Thanksgiving Dinner PR Stunt.

Peter watches, wide eyed, as Tony and Pepper are introduced, then Steve, then Thor. The other three are sitting out, as they often skip PR events. Dr. Banner is too shy, and also not the Hulk, and Clint and Natasha are meant to be more hidden than the others.

They meet and greet with a bunch of people “down on their luck” who couldn’t afford to buy turkey and everything else. There’s a running commentary the entire time from his horrible family.

“Oh my god, look at that ass,” May teases, covering Peter’s ears.

“I know,” Ben agrees, making a gross slurping sound.

“You got yourself some eye candy,” Grandpa James adds.

“No wonder you had a crush on him, Grandma,” Dad laughs.

Grandma Becca blushes. “Oh, shut up, Tommy. I don’t just like him for his looks.”

“No, you like him because dreamy,” Laura weighs in.

“He’s _so_ dreamy,” Ma replies.

It goes on and on and on.

“Look at that! He’s good with children. Why haven’t you babysat together yet.”

“We’re busy, May.”

“Busy getting busy, yeah.”

“What does that mean?”

“We both do a lotta work at home, kiddo.”

“Oh. Well, Uncle Bucky, he’s cute. I wanna meet him. Stop being busy.”

Bucky can’t help but laugh at that. “I can’t just stop working, Pete. But I promise you’ll get to meet him soon.”

“Yay!”

Then, when Peter goes to the bathroom — “Bucky, you better be tapping that.”

“Ben, Jesus, didn’t we just go over this.”

“Well, yeah, but are you a — “

“No, shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

Peter comes back and stops that conversation, thank god.

By the time they’re all done eating, the Stunt is over and football is on. All talk of Steve is done, replaced by arguing about plays and calls and things like that. Bucky takes the moment of peace to slip to the bathroom and call Steve.

“Hey, baby,” he greets once the call clicks over. “Having fun at the PR Stunt?”  
  
Steve groans. “No. This is awful. I wish you were here, or I was there.”

“I wish that, too. But it’s too late.”

“Maybe I could still make it?”

“Steve, by the time you got here, we’d already be leaving. The drive is just too long.”

Steve sighs, and Bucky feels the longing in down to his toes. “I know, I know. When are you coming home again?”

“I should be back tonight.”

“Good, good. Your place or mine?”

“Mine? I just wanna relax at my own place tonight.” Spending several hours cramped in the car with Grandma Becca was tiring. “Oh, happy Thanksgiving. I almost forgot.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Bucky,” Steve replies warmly. After a moment, he adds, “I really miss you.”

“We saw each other this morning,” Bucky says fondly.

“I still miss you. It’s been too long, and you’re too far away.”

“I’m in Connecticut.”

“Just let me miss you, asshole.”

Bucky chuckles. “Oh, alright. You miss me?”

“I do. So much. I hate that you aren’t here…. The whole night, I thought about what you would think of everything. I thought some really funny things, and you weren’t here to hear them.” He practically whines, “I just wanna see you, Buck.”

Heart bursting, Bucky responds in kind. “I miss you, too. It feels so weird, not having you here. We watched the show, and the whole time, all they could talk about was your ass. My grandparents are all super into you. It was so awkward. They would’ve shut up if you were here. And we coulda cuddled.”

“I would’ve loved that.”

Bucky entertains the idea of that, of Steve spending the holiday with his family. It’s a nice image, one that Bucky wishes was true. But hopefully they’ll be together long enough that next Thanksgiving, they could be together.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Steve says, not quite a whine this time.

“Just a few more hours, Stevie. Then we can see each other again.”

“Well, I can’t wait.”

Bucky chuckles. “I know you can’t, you’ve said this already.”

A loud knock on the door interrupts whatever sappy shit Bucky was about to say. “Bucky! Come out! Stop flirting with Steve!”

Bucky groans. “Fine!” To Steve, he says, “I gotta go. I’ll text you before I leave, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I love you.”

“Love you too, Stevie.”

He hangs up, opening the door to find Laura there. She’s crossed her arms and has her best resting bitch face on. “You’ve been holding up the bathroom.”

Bucky shrugs. “Sorry.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “Well, Grandma Becca wants you. She’s on the back porch.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Shit, alright.” He hurries onto the back porch, and sure enough, Grandma Becca is there, waiting on him.

She pats the chair next to her. “Take a seat, honey.”

Dread immediately fills him. _Shit, what’s she gonna say?_ He sits gingerly, letting Grandma Becca wrap her hands around his. “What’s this about?”

She smiles gently at him, soothing his anxiety. “I just wanted to talk to you about your Steve.” Then she laughs, making Bucky jump. “Don’t look so scared, sweetheart. I wanted to tell you how happy I am for you. You know about my past,” she prompts.

“With Josie?”

“Yes. And you know how difficult it was back then for people like us. I’m so glad that you and Steve can live freely. You can _love_ freely.”

Tears prickle at Bucky’s traitor eyes. “Thanks, Grand— “

“You better not take it for granted, you hear me? And hold onto that boy. I won’t have you lose him.”

Immediately, Bucky shoots back, “Why, ‘cause you couldn’t snap him up?”

She scoffs, letting go of Bucky’s hand to cross her arms. She looks just like Laura, or well, Laura looks just like her. “I could have snapped him up anyway, I’ll have you know. We lived two blocks away from each other. I was just too busy with — “

“Reggie, and Alex, and Howie, and Clara. And, what was her name, Sally? Oh, and can’t forget Darlene.”

She reaches out just to slap the back of his head. “I could go on about your exes,” she threatens.

Bucky beats a hasty retreat as soon as she starts, an almost maliciously teasing tone to her voice, “Matthew.”

* * *

## December 25th, 2011

They also spend Christmas in Hartford. Again, Steve gets stuck in New York City, in the tower. Bucky rolls out of Steve’s ridiculously comfortable bed at seven in the morning and freaks himself out trying to hurry out.

He pauses, of course, to kiss Steve, who groggily asks, “Buck? Where y’goin’?”

“Gotta go to my parent’s house.”

He blinks, barely seeing Bucky. He’d had a bad night, had only fallen asleep a few hours ago. “Why?”

Bucky chuckles. “It’s Christmas, Steve.”

“Oh. Merry Christmas,” he mumbles, leaning up to press a kiss to Bucky’s mouth. Bucky turns at the last second so it’s a kiss on the cheek. Steve’s morning breath is pretty rank.

“Merry Christmas. I’ll talk to you later, alright? Love you.”

“Love you.” Steve pushes his face into his pillow and promptly falls asleep.

Bucky laughs and heads home. He quickly packs everything he needs — not much, considering he’ll be coming back by tonight — and hurries off to May and Ben’s. It’s another two hour car ride in the back, stuck between Peter and May. Grandma Becca spends the whole ride telling stories about Christmas when she was young, and Christmases spent with Josie. By the time they get to Ma and Dad’s house, Bucky feels like he knows Grandma Becca way better.

Of course, the first thing Ma asks is, “Where’s Steve?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Do you even wanna see me, Ma? Or are you using me to get to Steve?”

She tuts. “Of course I want to see you, James. I do actually love you, you know.”

Bucky pretends to act shocked. “What?”

May shoulders past him, Peter’s hand clutched in hers. Peter says way too loudly, “Gramma, you _gotta_ love Bucky. He’s the best uncle in the whole world.”

“What about me?” Ben calls from outside, where he’s grabbing the presents they didn’t send ahead of time.

“Best Uncle Bucky in the world,” Peter amends.

Bucky ruffles Peter’s hair, laughing. “You bet.” He yells, leaning down and picking up Peter. He swings Peter over his shoulder, laughing as Peter squeals.

“Put me down! Put me down!”

“No,” Bucky growls, stalking to the living room and turning in a circle. Peter groans the whole time.

Grandpa James, who came yesterday and has already settled himself, laughs and laughs. Finally, after Ben’s gotten all the presents inside, he calls, “Junior, put the boy down.”

Bucky does, flopping Peter on the couch. He makes sure not to hurt Peter; the poor boy looks so dizzy his eyes are practically crossed.

Bucky laughs guiltily, “Sorry, sorry. You alright?”

Peter blinks at him, reorienting himself. It’d be cute if Bucky’s stomach wasn’t twisting. Then — “Let’s do that again!”

Ma immediately shoots that down. “No, not again. That’s enough, you two.”

“Awww,” Peter whines. “I wanna be swung again!”

May and Ben both deny him, which sends him into a sour mood...for five minutes. When they sit down to open presents, any bad feelings completely wash away and excitement replaces it.

As per Barnes Family Tradition, the youngest opens presents first.

That means Peter, as usual, which is great for his impatience except when he has to wait for everyone to get through their presents before he can play. Peter gets many toys and clothes, his two of his favorite presents being a baby doll and a large tub of LEGOS. Next is Laura, who gets lots more clothes than Peter and way less toys, though she does get several fashion drawing pads.

Bucky’s next. His Ma gets him pajamas with little Captain America shields, and his sisters pooled together to get him a Kindle. Each of his grandparents got him biographies for his favorite presidents. The last present is another book, this one with a sticker on the wrapping paper labelled “to Bucky, from Steve”.

He smiles confusedly at Ma, who’s recording everything of course, and asks, “How’d this get here?”

Ma smiles genially, which is such a tell. “He mailed it a few days ago.”

A few days ago? When would he have had the time? Despite his confusion, he tears the present open. It _is_ a book, one that looks professionally made even though it doesn’t look like anything he’s seen before. It’s got a line drawing on it, of Captain America holding his shield. Bucky peers at it. It says it was written and illustrated by one Steve Rogers. The title is _The Adventures of The Howling Commandos_. He goes to open it, curious, but Peter shouts — “Uncle Bucky, we have to wait!”

He gives Peter a hard look, but sets it aside anyway.

He teases Ben and then May as they open their presents, though all he really cares about is the book. Written and illustrated by Steve? Bucky’s seen Steve’s work, of course, and the little drawing on the front _is_ Steve’s style. When did he have the time to make this? He barely notices Dad and Ma open their presents.

Time slows down until Grandpa James’ turn comes. “Junior, go look at your book.”

Bucky blushes but doesn’t waste the opportunity. He stands, stretching out his tight muscles. “Am I being that obvious?”

Peter answers for them all when he says, “Yes!”

Everyone laughs while Bucky beats another hasty retreat. He can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, not really. But playing like he is isn’t harming anyone, least of all, him.

He settles in the chair he’d sat in last time, propping his feet on the chair adjacent to him. It’s cold, but there’s no wind and no snow. The sun shines off what snow there is, and onto the edge of the deck. Bucky would like to be more bundled up, but he’s okay for the moment.

He cracks the book open, flipping a few pages to the dedication page. It says, ‘To Bucky, one of my favorite people. Merry Christmas, I love you’. Under that, in Steve’s handwriting it says, _Sorry I couldn’t be there._ Despite himself, Bucky feels heat build behind his eyes. He blinks and turns the page, passing the table of contents without looking so he can be surprised.

The first real page proudly claims, _Every story in this book is one-hundred percent true, with the exception of those I, Captain Steve Rogers, have heard secondhand. Some dates, names, and events have been changed due to legality issues. The Unknown Howling Commando features heavily in this, but, to respect his wishes, his identity will not be revealed._

Bucky perks up at that — the Unknown Howling Commando, nicknamed Yankee Jim or sometimes Unknown Jack, is one of the most interesting figures in recent history. The only Howling Commando to keep his identity a secret, the only one to give his life in service, the one whose body was never found. Bucky’s got several theories as to who the guy was. He _doesn’t_ agree with the most popular theory of Yankee Jim being Australian watchmaker Chester Dale King — no, he doesn’t make sense. But, whatever. He needs to read, see if there are any hints.

Excitedly, he scans the page, looking for something that would indicate Yankee Jim is in the story.

But this page isn’t a story, it’s a guide. The names of the Howling Commandos reside in two rows, in the order of their ranks. _Captain Steven G. Rogers of the_ _107th Infantry Regiment_ _, Lieutenant James Montgomery Falsworth of the 3rd Independent Parachute Brigade, Sergeant Timothy A. C. “Dum Dum” Dugan of the 107th Infantry Regiment, and the Unknown Howling Commando, whose rank was Sergeant, as well._ Below them are drawings of what they looked like, and sure enough, they look just like the real men. Yankee Jim’s face is shaded, so no features except a jawline and hair can be made out. Dammit.

The next line is _Corporal James “Jim” Morita, of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, Private First Class Gabriel “Gabe” Jones of the 92nd Infantry Division, French Resistance Fighter Jacques Dernier, and SSR Agent Margaret E. “Peggy” Carter._ They, too, are near-perfect renditions. Pride in Steve balloons inside Bucky, because of his art and his keeping of Yankee Jim’s secret, even though Bucky wishes he could know.

He turns the page. _Azzano, Italy, 1943._ A quick scan of the page reveals no Yankee Jim. With a silent promise to himself to go back and read it later, he turns the page again until he gets to the next story. The next several don’t include Yankee Jim, so Bucky skips them, a tad guilty.

The first that includes Yankee Jim is labelled, _Allied Front, Italy, 1944_. The art on the page is similar to a comic book, with panels and such. It tells the story of Yankee Jim predicting a battle, and being forced to tough it out handcuffed to a table. Interestingly, it doesn’t say why he’s handcuffed to the table.

Bucky rereads it, tapping his feet to jolt some warmth into him. He reads the other stories — bugs and frogs being hidden in sleeping bags, spiders in a zipped up tent, repeatedly saying “ _I_ _s that a snake?!_ ” to freak each other out. There are tens of stories involving Yankee Jim, and in the time it takes for someone to call him inside, he reads them all.

**[...]**

They get home late, staying longer than they should’ve to watch Steve on TV. He suffers through his entire family, even Peter, commenting on his boyfriend. He and Steve plan to meet at Steve’s; Bucky has May, who’s driving Grandma Becca’s car, drop him off there. He lets himself up with his own key, sets his bags next to the door like usual.

Steve’s still up, rummaging through the fridge for something. He’s wearing only boxers. Bucky comes up from behind and pulls him into a hug. Steve tenses, but as soon as Bucky hums, “Hey, baby,” he relaxes. Steve turns in his arms, warm skin pressing against Bucky, arms curling around his waist as they leaned on the counter.

“Hey, Buck. You enjoy your present?”

Bucky kisses him before answering. He’s so happy with Steve, he can’t help it. “I _love_ it. I haven’t finished it, but what I’ve read is amazing, Stevie.”

Steve blushes to his ears, dipping his head. He’s never been good at receiving compliments.

“When did you have the time to make it?”

“Oh, well...every time I had a meeting with the Avengers, I would draw more. I got it made into a real book a few weeks ago — Tony helped with that.” He rubs a hand up and down Bucky’s back. “Wanna look at it tomorrow?”

Bucky nods, because of course he does, and says, “I’ll give you my present first.”

“I’m not getting it today?”

“Too late for your real present.”

“ _Real_ present?” Steve repeats flirtatiously. “So I am getting a present tonight.”

Bucky leans in, pressing their stomachs and hips together. “Yup.”

They stare at each other for a long moment. Happiness and love flow through Bucky; he loves being this close to Steve, loves the feeling he gets when he’s been gone all day and comes back to see him. Then, without further ado, he grabs Steve by the thighs, pulls him up, and carries him to their bedroom.

They've got a lot to do tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, I will love you forever <3


	2. 2012 (my lonely days are over and life is like a song)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from At Last by Etta James

## January 1st, 2012

Steve invites him to the Tower for the first time a few days before New Years. Bucky very reluctantly agrees to it, feeling instinctively that it wouldn’t go right.

On the day of, he puts on his best outfit, makes sure he and Steve match, and also makes sure they leave on time. They take a taxi so he won’t be mobbed. Steve has to be by early, of course, because _of course_ there’s some dumb PR Stunt New Years Party he’s expected to attend.

In the taxi, Bucky asks, “So, what are these things really like?”

“They’re boring. It’s a lotta standing around doin’ nothing until the camera’s on you. Then you have to look like you’re having fun. We’re probably gonna sit at the bar the whole night.”

“Except for when we’re dancing,” Bucky adds.

Steve blinks, looking over. “Dancing?”

“Well, yeah. We don’t have to grind if you don’t want to, I know that’s pretty weird to you. But we can dance some other way?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t dance?”

“Yeah.”

“Wasn’t dancing like...the number one pastime for you teens in the thirties?”

Steve’s face pinches. “Yeah, if you were popular and had money. You know I stayed in most the time.”

“So you’re saying you never went out to a dance hall? Not even when you weren’t sick?”

“I did once or twice, but I never danced.”

Bucky wants to ask why not, but he senses that it’s a touchy subject. Instead, he says, “Well, then, I guess I’m gonna have to teach you how to dance tonight.”

Steve doesn’t have anything to say to that; he turns his head to look out the window, pale. They cross the bridge in silence.

“So, am I gonna be meeting all the Avengers?” Bucky asks once they’re a dozen blocks out.

“You’ve already met most of them.”

“Yeah but...all of them? Together? Do they know who I am?”

“I’ve...mentioned you, yeah. And Tony, Nat, and Clint obviously know who you are.”

“Yeah, your creepy friends. But what about Hulk and Thor? Are they gonna be there?”

Steve smirks. “Why are you so interested?”

“I mean, have you seen Thor? What a hunk. I wanna meet ‘im.”

It has the desired effect — Steve laughs. “I have seen Thor. And yes, he’s gonna be there tonight. I’ll make sure the two of you meet.”

“Awesome. Are we going in together or are we doing somethin’ else?”

“There shouldn’t be any paparazzis yet, so we can go in together.” They share a smile; Steve continues, “Standard Public Behavior.”

“Yeah, I know.” Then, hopefully, Bucky asks, “Any chance we can skip out and go to your floor? I still haven’t been given the full tour.”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “No, we can’t. Natasha has this rule — we all stay or we all suffer the consequences of skipping out.”

Just as they pull up to the Tower, Bucky comments succinctly, “That sucks.”

**[...]**

When they go upstairs, they step out on a floor Bucky’s never been on. It’s just below one of the few residential floors open to the public. It doesn’t look like (what Bucky's seen of) Steve’s floor, or any of the work floors. There are lots of people around — people with camera equipment and people with makeup. And there are the Avengers.

Steve strides ahead of Bucky, all Captain America confidence. He smiles at a few of the makeup people, but for the most part, doesn’t look away from his teammates. Bucky walks two steps behind him, and watches as the Avengers take him in. Their faces show a mix of creepy interest and perfectly normal fascination.

Tony is the first one to speak. “ _Buuuucky!_ Hi!”

“Are you already drunk?”

He scoffs. “No. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon.”

Natasha — he and Steve talk about her using her real name because Steve isn’t going to call her Black Widow off the job, but it feels very weird to say her real name like he knows her, when he’s never met her — says, “He’s been drinking since noon.”

“Tony,” Steve groans instantly, “Really?”

“What? It’s New Years! Anyway, Bucky, you’re here!” He grins widely. “Guys, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is the guys.”

It’s a little weird having all the Avengers stare at him. He waves, embarrassed. “Hey.”

“So, uh, are you actually Steve’s,” Clint — again, it feels weird — drops his voice to a whisper, “ _boyfriend_?”

“Were you really a ranger?” Dr. Banner asks.

Bucky laughs. “Yeah. To both.”

They ask more questions, about working for Tony and dating Steve. Thor introduces himself as, “Thor, God of thunder”. Bucky blushes and stutters when he introduces himself, and when they shake hands, he thinks he’s going to faint. Thor turns it into some sort of warrior wrist clutching thing and Bucky has never felt so honored and so gay.

Natasha looks at him, sly. “And...do you know what we’ll do to you if you hurt him?”

He sobers. Steve stiffens at his side, instantly ready to defend him. “Nat—”

“Nah, Steve, it’s alright. I do know. You’ve told me before, remember? It was something like ‘if you hurt him, I’ll kill you, and no one’ll ever know’. Right?”

She smiles at him, seemingly impressed. “Right.” The other Avengers all smirk at him.

Steve’s pulled away before any other questions can be asked. Bucky follows him to the makeup table, and tries to stay out of their way. He spends the time at the table finding ways to flirt without it being obvious. The makeup people give him looks that make it clear his attempts aren't working. And well, he _has_ been following Steve around and sticking by his side.

They go upstairs to the residential “party floor”, and Bucky detaches himself from Steve to talk to his co-workers. They don’t have a lot to say, if only because they’re drunk and trying to hook up.

The rest of the night is pretty boring, just like Steve said it would be. They do sit at the the bar, and talk to the bartender and girls who approach them in a drunken cycle. They ask for Bucky’s number, assuming that Steve is too virginal to even know what the question means; Bucky gets to say he’s taken over and over again. Every time he does, Steve smirks more and more at him.

Periodically, the camera people beckon Steve over and he talks to someone about something. Bucky’s gonna watch it on YouTube later.

Avengers come up every once in awhile, too, mostly to subtly, or not so subtly, continue questioning Bucky.

A few minutes before the ball drops, Steve’s forced to go back on camera. He makes some coy comment about having someone to kiss, and they go and hide out in a dark corner to kiss for a lot longer than the seconds after midnight.

By the time they can leave the party, Bucky’s tipsy, and not following those Standard Public Behavior rules. They stumble into the elevator; Bucky has to tell himself over and over not to press Steve against the wall and kiss him senseless. They aren’t alone, after all — several party goers who must’ve gotten on the wrong elevator are watching them. S’alright, though, JARVIS would just take them back to the party floor or the lobby or something.

They step off on Steve’s floor, with Bucky insisting to the party-goers that they should stay in the elevator. Once the doors close, Bucky mumbles, “Jeez, get the fuck offa our floor.”

“They never came onto our floor, Buck.”

“But they wanted to, and you know it. Why were they even on that elevator anyway. God, I hate drunk people. They’re so...so _dumb_.”

Steve laughs and helps Bucky to the bathroom. They get ready for bed next to each other; it’s weird using products that aren’t theirs. Bucky decides to have Steve bring over some pajamas or clothes or something so whenever they come over, it won’t be like this again.

Overall, the night is a success, if Bucky does say so himself.

* * *

## March 10th, 2012

Bucky wakes up slowly, head aching from the previous night's celebrating. He groans and burrows under the blankets.

From somewhere else in the room, Steve calls, “Buck, wake up.”

“No,” he moans. “‘M asleep. Shuddup.”

Steve laughs, loud and hearty. “C’mon. Wake up.”

“ _No_.”

“Bucky. It’s your birthday, we have plans. Get up.”

“Ugh.” He pushes himself up, eyes closed as he gets his legs under him. It’s hard to keep his head up. “What.”

Steve sits on the bed, then, resting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He waits for Bucky to open his eyes before speaking. “We have places to be, honey. If you wanna take a shower before we go, you need to get in now.”

“Where’re we even goin’?” Bucky mumbles, using Steve's shoulders as leverage to stand.

“It’s a surprise.”

“But _why_.”

“It’s your birthday.”

“I know. I know that. But why’s it a surprise?”

Steve just laughs and guides him to the shower. “You need me to turn it on for you?”

Bucky rubs at his eyes, scratching the sharp bits out of the corners. “Fuck you.”

“Can’t do that until later.”

Bucky sighs, and doesn’t bother to respond. Instead, he just gets undressed and steps into the shower. He turns it on, hoping it’s still warm since the condensation on the wall says Steve’s taken a shower already, but _shit, it’s fuckin’ cold._

They bicker as Steve shaves and fixes his hair. Bucky washes his own hair, body, and sings as loud as he can to shut Steve up.

He gets out to find that Steve’s already picked out his outfit. Steve, interestingly, has a good sense of fashion, and today’s no exception. He shrugs on his clothes and lays back down.

Steve returns from the bathroom as soon as Bucky’s eyes close. “Buck!”

He groans. “Nope. I’m going back to bed. Nope.”

“Bucky.”

“No.”

“We’re going to be late.”

“To what?”

“Your surprise.” Steve waits for Bucky to move, gives up after a moment. Then, like an asshole, he settles his tiny ass on Bucky’s hips and _fucking tickles him_.

“Goddammit, Steve,” Bucky nearly shrieks. He opens his eyes wide and pushes at Steve’s massive shoulders. “Off, off.”

Steve relents, but doesn’t get off — apparently, it’s just too funny. He drops so they’re chest to chest, laughing so hard he’s making them both shake with it.

“Stevie,” Bucky complains, but he’s smiling wide enough for it to hurt. It doesn’t quite hit the intended mark.

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve gasps out. “Had to make sure you were awake.”

“Well, I’m awake now, asshole. C’mon, get up.” Steve reluctantly moves off him, falling to the bed next to Bucky. Bucky pokes him. “Are we gonna be late? When do we have to get to this thing?”

“There’s not a set time, we just have to be there soon. And if we don’t go now, we’ll be late.”

They both hurry out of bed and then the apartment, with Bucky asking questions like, “If there’s no set time, how could we be late?” In the taxi, they play twenty questions again, and every single one of Bucky’s is about where they’re going.

“I can’t tell you! It’ll ruin the surprise!”

Bucky rolls his eyes as hard as he can and sighs loud enough that Steve rolls _his_ eyes.

“Bucky. Seriously. I know you don’t like surprises, but it’s your birthday. Just suffer through this one surprise, please.”

“Yeah, okay. One surprise. This one. So, what are we doing for dinner?”

They have a stare off. After a moment, Steve says, “Josie’s. I talked to Carla, she’s gonna have everyone sing happy birthday to you.”

“Ugh. Is there any getting around that?”

“Nope.”

It goes on like that, with Bucky trying to get every detail of Steve’s plans out of him, and Steve grudgingly telling him. They end up talking to the cabbie, who recognizes Steve despite his sunglasses and hat, and doesn’t mind driving them out to god knows where. It’s a long ride but not a boring one.

Steve insists on blindfolding Bucky before they get to wherever they’re going. He pulls a tie out from somewhere and ties it over his eyes. When the car stops, the cabbie says, “Hey, man, happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” To Steve, Bucky says, “You gonna help me out?”

“Of course, just gimme a sec.” The door opens and Steve clambers out. Bucky scoots over, and when Steve reaches in to get him out, Bucky grabs his wrists and clumsily exits the car.

The first thing he notices is the sound of barking dogs. Then he notices the smell — outdoorsy and…doggy. It’s not a pleasant smell.

“Steve. Are you getting me a dog?”

“I’m getting _us_ a dog.”

“And we’re at a puppy farm?”

“Is that what these’re called?”

“This is just like _Marley & Me_,” Bucky says instead of answering. “Can I take the blindfold off?”

“No.” Steve lets go of Bucky’s hands, resting one of his own on Bucky’s back. He leads them forward. “C’mon, we gotta meet the people in charge here.”

The people in charge turn out to be two Canadians — a couple — who crossed the border to breed goldendoodles.

“What, ‘s’it illegal to breed dogs in Canada, or somethin’?”

The guy sasses back, “No, but more people want goldendoodles here in the good ole’ US of A.”

“Smartass,” Bucky says because he just can’t help it. In his defense, he says it fondly. “Can we see the dogs now?”

“You can’t see mucha anything,” the guy drawls, but the four of them are moving quickly.

The woman tells them as they approach the puppies, “They’re about eight weeks old. Large Standard.”

“Large Stand—”

“Their mom, the poodle, she’s a Standard. Goldendoodles only come in three sizes — Miniature, Small Standard, and Large Standard.”

They keep walking.

“What’s like...the biggest they get?” Bucky asks.

“Averages are fifty to ninety pounds, twenty to twenty-four inches in height.”

“Holy shit, okay.” They pause, and the barking gets louder. “Can I take this damn thing off now?”

“I’ll do it,” Steve says, and gently pulls the tie off Bucky’s face.

There are dogs everywhere, fenced in but jumping excitedly and watching their every move. They’re precious, a range of colors from white-gold to a muddy brown. There are poodles and golden retrievers around, too, looking adorable. Right in front of them, a poodle lays in a fenced off bit of land, with five little puppies. They’re so precious, Bucky thinks he may die from the cuteness overload.

Bucky asks, “Can I go in there?”

The couple both say yes at the same time; Bucky wastes no time in stepping over the fence. The puppies all surround him immediately. He sits on his ass in the dirt, and lets the puppies climb into his lap and lick him and slobber all over him.

Steve laughs and joins him in the fray. The poodle mom gets to her feet and clambers over. Bucky doesn’t know who to focus on — the puppies or the mom.

They end up spending a lotta time in there, more than they maybe should’ve. It’s just hard to pick. Bucky almost wants to ask if they can get two, but resists only because he doesn’t want to go from having no pets at all to having two Large Standard goldendoodles.

In the end, Bucky picks the puppy who was affectionate but not overly so — one of the boys. He costs a ridiculous amount of money, but the Canadians also sell them a crate, collar, leash, food and water bowls, and food. The cabbie, who’d been parked outside the puppy farm the entire time, looks delighted to see the little puppy. He requests it stay inside the crate, which of course, they agree to.

The ride back to Brooklyn is just as interesting as the ride out — the cabbie eyes them a little suspiciously, but they’re operating on Standard Public Behavior. Mostly, Bucky pays Steve and the cabbie no mind. He watches their puppy settle into the crate and thinks about names. His family has always named pets after real people or fictional characters, and he wants to continue that. But what name should he choose?

When they pull up in front of Bucky’s apartment, Steve carries the food and other things while Bucky carries the crate. It’s a hassle to get him upstairs, a hassle to open the door, and a hassle to get the crate through. Bucky sets it down on the floor, up against the wall, and takes a seat on the couch to look up how to introduce puppies to their new home.

After a few moments, Steve settles next to him, swinging an arm over his shoulder. Bucky leans into the touch.

“Do you like your present?”

“I love it.” Bucky turns his head to peck Steve’s lips. “We need to get him toys, though, and a bed. And a tag. And a name.”

“We can do that later, he’s okay for now.”

“Except for the name bit, we should figure that out.”

“He’s your dog, you can name him whatever you want.”

Bucky’s already come to the decision to name him after a character from a book, but which one? Maybe... _To Kill A Mockingbird_. That was his favorite book in high school. But then, does he choose Scout or Boo Radley? Well, he always liked Scout more. He doesn't even think about the fact that Scout is a girl in the books.

“What about...Scout?”

Steve takes barely a second to think about it, but his smile and, “Yeah, I like that. It fits,” are both genuine.

And that’s all it takes. Welcome to the family, Scout Barnes.

**[...]**

They end up taking a quick trip to the store, one at a time so Scout won’t be alone. While Steve goes to get toys and one of those baby fences like in Rugrats, Bucky lets Scout out. Scout likes the apartment well enough, though the kitchen scares him, and he sniffs around the couch like he smells prey, or something.

Bucky’s heart is bursting with love. When it’s his turn to go out, he gets snacks and a book about training dogs and gets a tag for Scout’s collar that says, _Hi! My name is Scout. If I’m lost, please call my dad at this number_. He includes Steve’s number, though thinking about Scout being lost and someone taking him to the Tower when Bucky isn’t there makes his stomach twist.

When he gets home, it’s to find that Steve is teaching Scout his name. They spend all day with Scout, trying to teach him to sit and stay and learn his name. When Scout takes a nap, they talk about how they’re going to get around dinner at Josie’s — neither of them want to leave Scout home alone so soon.

“Take out?”

“Does Josie’s do take out?”

“Yeah. For me, at least. Family discount.”

“Can _I_ invoke family discount?” Steve asks, as they peruse the menu online. “Do significant others get to be part of that?”

Bucky shrugs. “Yeah, I would think so. And if you don’t, just say it’s for my birthday.”

As it turns out, Steve _does_ get the family discount. Really, with Scout and now this, Bucky feels like they’re becoming a real family. It’s a great, if a bit jarring, feeling.

That night, they slip into Bucky’s bed, with Scout in a currently too-big bed on the floor at the foot of it.

* * *

## June 16th, 2012

(The topic was broached with a certain confidence. Bucky couldn’t be sure Steve would say yes, but he knew it wouldn’t break them up. He waited until they were both awake in the morning, sleeping in Steve’s bed, before asking, “Do you want to move in with me?”

Steve blinked. Then — “Officially?”

“Yeah. We could move into my place, or yours. If you want to.”

“Okay.”

And that was it.)

Steve doesn’t bring any of his furniture except his bookshelves. He’d confessed, once, to not being attached to almost anything in his apartment, except for things Bucky gave him, his books, and what few items he’d been given back by the Smithsonian. He brings his sheets, and his art supplies, and his pictures. He puts his pictures — one of his Ma, one of his Dad, a picture of Peggy Carter, a picture of all the Howling Commandos except Yankee Jim, and a picture of what he looked like before the serum — on his bare wall, separating the pictures of his parents and the Howling Commandos, and the pictures of Peggy Carter and the Steve of before with a beautiful rendition of the old New York skyline. The left has the pictures of his Ma, Dad, and teammates. The right has the other two pictures.

“We need a Wall,” he says, and doesn’t explain the significance of it. After a second thought, he moves the photograph of what he used to look like to the left. “Can I — ?” He gestures to Bucky’s pictures of his family.

Bucky shrugs. “Sure.”

One by one, Steve moves Bucky’s pictures to the Wall. Bucky’s only picture of Josie goes to the left, while the photos of his grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles, sisters, Ben and Peter go to the right. He replaces the bare spots on the other walls with his art; Bucky gets the executive decision as to what art is put where.

By the time they’re done, his living room looks completely different, but in a good way. Steve really does have a good eye for design. Scout runs around, excited to have them both there together. The way he acts, it’s like he and Steve never see each other.

Of course, Scout is also interested in Steve’s books, which he sniffs suspiciously. He seems to find what he was looking for, growling and backing away.

“What could possibly be so dangerous about books?” Bucky asks, half-amused, half-exasperated by their dog’s antics.

“I could be hiding something in a hollowed out one,” Steve offers as he re-assembles his bookshelf.

“Are you?”

“No.”

“So then, why’s he doing that? _C’mere, you silly puppy_ ,” Bucky ends in his baby voice. Scout clambers on over, jumping in Bucky’s lap and licking his face. His _entire_ face. “Gross, Scout. Stop it. Lemme help Steve.”

The next few minutes are spent playing with Scout, trying to get him to get off Bucky’s lap, and sighing loudly to get Steve’s attention. It doesn’t work — Steve just laughs and pays them no mind, until Scout nips at Bucky, that is.

“Hey! Scout, we said no biting,” Bucky says firmly, cutting off the playtime.

Steve turns to give Scout his disappointed look; in his Captain America voice, he says, “ _Scout_.” Bucky watches as Scout tries to give Steve puppy dog eyes, and then succumbs to Steve. Bucky didn’t even know that that could happen.

Astonished, Bucky’s mouth drops open to form a small ‘o’. “Dude.”

Steve flushes, just a tad, and goes back to his bookshelf. “What?”

“You just out-cuted a puppy.” A thought occurs to Bucky, and he can’t help it slipping out. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

Steve scoffs, but Bucky can tell he’s flattered. Bucky pushes Scout off, gets to his feet, and capitalizes on the moment with a kiss.

A few minutes later, he and Steve get to setting up the bookshelf, and shelving alphabetically. They combine their books, but not before writing an ‘S’ or ‘B’ on the inside to know whose’s whose. Then they swap out Bucky’s sheets for Steve’s, and argue about which duvet to keep on the bed and which to keep in the closet, make up and then make out.

Finally, when all that’s left is a box of Steve’s old things that Bucky both does and doesn’t want to touch, they decide to head out to the park, so Scout can run around and get his exercise for the day.

Though they both wear disguises, Standard Public Behavior rules are in place, and so they can’t hold hands. But really, keeping a hold on Scout’s leash is a two-handed job, anyway.

**[...]**

Steve has spent most nights at Bucky's apartment, or vice versa, since June of last year. It’s a little weird, knowing that Steve doesn’t have his own place anymore. Good weird, but still weird. And it’s certainly nice to know that Steve will be spending the night _every_ night, now.

Still, they need their alone time. Bucky takes a bath, and Scout takes a nap, while Steve goes through that box. It’s a nice, relaxing bath, and after Scout jumped on him at the park and slobbered all over, Bucky needed it.

When he gets out, he pulls on clean boxer-briefs and uses the towel on the rack to dry his hair. He steps out of the bathroom, yawning.

Steve’s sitting on the floor near the door, the box next to him and a small blanket in his lap. Immediately, it’s obvious something is wrong — Steve’s head is downturned, so Bucky can’t see his face, and his shoulders are high and tightly curled in. His grip on the blanket looks deceivingly gentle.

“Stevie?”

Steve clears his throat, a sure tell. He doesn’t look up, instead stroking the blanket. “Hmm?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Bucky walks to where Steve is, settling down next to him on the floor. He reaches a hand out, then squeezes when Steve curls their fingers together. “You need any help going through this stuff?”

Steve doesn’t hide his sniffle. “No. I’d rather just...leave it for another day.”

Bucky nods like he’s making a decision. “Okay. You, or we, or I, could go through it whenever you want. For now, you wanna head to bed?”

“We have to take Scout out one last time before we can.”

“Oh, yeah. I can — “

“Buck, you’re practically naked. I’ll do it.”

“You sure?” He asks, one last time. He won’t push any further.

“I’m sure.” He sets the blanket back in the box, and stands, pulling Bucky up once he’s on his feet. “You go to bed, I won’t take long.”

Bucky stretches, yawning again. Once his jaw creaks, he kisses Steve’s cheek. “Okay. See ya soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Steve goes out and wakes Scout, who apparently took his nap on the couch, and leaves quickly. Bucky jumps into bed, wrapping the top sheet around him tightly. Then, with a curse, he gets back out of bed to plug his phone in, and make sure his alarm is set for the next morning. Then he decides to make his lunch for tomorrow tonight, so he won't be rushed in the morning. By the time Steve and Scout get back, Bucky’s just settling back in.

Scout plops down onto his bed, while Steve undresses swiftly and slides into Bucky’s welcome arms.

“Hey, boyfriend-slash-roommate,” Bucky jokes in an undertone. “You come here often?”

Steve chuckles, turning them both so he’s the little spoon. “Now I do.”

They kiss, briefly. “How was the walk?”

Another kiss. “It was fine. Scout saw a squirrel and tried to make a break for it.”

Another kiss. “I swear, he’s such a dog.”

Another kiss. “Well, yeah, he’s a dog.” In between kisses, Steve adds, “I’m gonna take him on my jog tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, he’ll like that. I have — a meeting — at nine, so — I’ll be up.”

Steve rolls them, just a little, not enough to start anything, and kisses him deep. He wraps his arms around Bucky; it’s not so tight that Bucky can’t breathe, but Bucky pulls away, anyway. He strokes Steve’s back, revelling in the muscles and dip.

“We better go to bed.”

“Okay,” Steve says on a sigh, pecking Bucky’s lips one last time. He settles on Bucky’s chest the way they usually sleep, his “Goodnight, Buck,” muffled.

“Night, Stevie.”

* * *

## November 22nd, 2012

Scout enjoys car rides as much as the next puppy does, but not when he’s stuck in his crate. Bucky sort of feels bad, but Scout is so excitable about everything that he might jump into the front and cause a car wreck. Plus, Grandma Becca is new to Scout (and Steve, but that’s a different story), and Scout acts crazy when it comes to strangers.

Steve is the one stuck in the back, and Bucky _does_ feel bad for him. He’s stuck behind Grandma Becca, who likes to have as much foot space as possible — she is pretty tall, it’s where Bucky and his dad and grandpa got their height from — and squeezed in next to Scout’s crate. Unfortunately, it couldn’t have worked out any other way — Steve can’t drive, and even if he could, he didn't know how to get to Ma and Dad’s house, plus Grandma Becca refuses to sit in the back.

So there they are, driving up the I-95 N. Grandma Becca is, of course, embarrassing the hell out of Bucky.

“When he was a baby, he cried and cried all night. Kept his poor parents and May up. May even asked if they could take him back and get a new one,” Grandma Becca laughs. “Oh, when she found out we couldn’t, she threw the biggest fit.”

“Really? She’s always told us that she never cried,” Steve comments.

“Really. She was just as bad as Bucky, here.” Her eyes suddenly widen. “When they had their first heartbreaks — oh, May cried for days, but only in her room. Bucky, he — “

“Grandma,” Bucky groans instantly because Jesus, no, don’t tell Steve about his —

“He wrote poetry!"

“I was a teenager! It was the hormones’ fault!”

Steve doesn’t laugh, which earns him a blowjob later. All he says is, “Becca, is it really fair to judge the actions of a heartbroken teenager?”

Quick side note — Steve calling Grandma Becca just Becca is weird and absolutely the product of Grandma Becca telling Steve, as soon as she got in the car, “You know, we used to live a few blocks from each other. You’re quite a bit older than me, but we were closer in age than you and Bucky, that’s for sure.” Bucky is going to remember this in fifty years and still feel embarrassed.

Grandma Becca laughs. “Good answer, Steve.”

Bucky suddenly wishes May, Ben, and Peter were coming with them, instead of visiting Ben's parents. There wouldn’t be room for Scout, but at least he wouldn’t be the center of attention, right?

The next hour is filled with increasingly improbable ways that Bucky can change the subject, as Grandma Becca tells Steve about when he and May were kids and decided to try climbing a tree, only to be attacked by a bird that was nesting in the tree, and how they broke opposite wrists when they fell out. Or the time Bucky was dressed up in his new Sunday Best for family pictures, except he was holding the leash of the dog Spock, who was almost bigger than him, and the dog had gone tearing off after a duck, dragging poor Bucky straight into the muddy pond.

When she gets around to his first high school dance, Bucky is sorely tempted to start banging his head on the steering wheel. Steve must notice his anguish, because he cuts in with a story about his own time with the USO girls back in the 40s.

Steve and Grandma Becca spend the rest of the drive talking about The Good Old Days, and it’s with a mixture of relief and nerves that Bucky parks at his parents’ house. Still, he wonders, _Is Steve ready to deal with the Barnes family in full force?_

Someone must have been watching for them from the window, because as soon as Bucky turns the car off, Dad’s there opening the door for Grandma Becca. Bucky gets out and pulls Scout’s crate out of the back seat, and Steve sighs in relief as he can finally stretch out enough to squeeze out of the car himself.

Ma screeches as soon as she sees them, which is before they see her.

“James! Steve! Oh, it’s so nice to see you both!” She manhandles them into a hug, which probably looks comical to anyone not in the hug. For those _in_ the hug, it’s uncomfortable to have to lean down half a foot to hug properly.

“Hi, Ma, Dad.”

Steve nods like the gentleman he is. “Mrs. Barnes, Mr. Barnes. It’s good to see you, as well.”

“Was Grandma okay on the ride over?” Dad asks. He knows very well how she can act when she’s in a mood.

Bucky opens his mouth to say, _she was fucking awful_ , but Steve beats him to it.

“She was wonderful, Mr. Barnes. She had lots of interesting stories.”

“At my expense,” Bucky adds.

Ma waves a hand. “That’s not new, honey. Anyway, let’s go inside! Dinner is almost done. And Laura will be happy to see you, too, Steve! She hasn’t been able to stop talking about you since September.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Bucky groans. Why does everyone in his family have a crush on Steve? “Let me let Scout out, then Steve and I’ll come in, okay?”

Ma looks reluctant to let them out of her sight, but Dad and Grandma Becca waste no time in heading to the front door. Eventually, she joins them. Bucky waits until all three are out of sight before taking Scout’s crate further into the yard and letting him out.

Scout, a city dog at heart, immediately runs the length of the yard. Ma and Dad’s dogs, Mike and Phoebe, both watch him cautiously. Shit, Bucky forgot about that.

Steve asks, “They won’t hurt him, will they?”

“No, they’re pretty friendly. But Scout’s never been around other dogs, so who knows how he’s gonna act.”

Steve rests his arm on Bucky’s shoulders, and Bucky leans in. They watch as Scout, hesitantly, approaches Mike and Phoebe. They sniff each other, and soon enough, Scout is welcomed in the yard. Too soon, if you ask Bucky. He's hella hungry, but he knows that Steve’s gonna be horribly embarrassed by Bucky's insane family.

“Ugh, okay, let’s go in. Scout’s fine.”

Steve laughs and rubs Bucky’s back. “It won’t be that bad.”

“That’s what you think,” Bucky mutters as they walk to the front door.

Of course, as soon as they step inside, Grandpa James and Grandma Anne are waiting to meet Steve.

“Junior!” Grandpa booms. “Introduce us.”

“Grandpa, Grandma, this is my boyfriend, Steve. Steve, this is my grandpa, James, and my grandma, Anne.”

Very proudly, Grandpa tells Steve, “Junior here was named after me.”

Steve smiles, and Bucky’s happy to note that it’s only half Captain America. “What an honor. Is that why you call him Junior?”

“Yep.”

“He refuses to call Bucky here by his prefered name,” Grandma says to Steve like it’s a particularly juicy bit of gossip.

Somehow, Steve and his grandparents keep up a conversation. Grandpa puts a hand on Steve’s back and pulls him away, into a conversation with Grandma Becca in the living room.

_Well,_ Bucky thinks, _he’s been stolen from me already._ He’d expected this, but not quite so early. He goes to the kitchen, where Laura’s helping bake the pie, Ma and Dad at her sides.

“Need any help?”

The next hour and a half are spent apart; Steve talks to Bucky’s grandparents while Bucky helps cook. They settle down to eat, and when it’s Bucky turn to say what he’s thankful for, he says, very pointedly, “I’m thankful that you freaks aren’t going to ask Steve about the war.”

Ma rolls her eyes, but says nothing.

Steve’s next. There's a slight twist to his mouth when he smiles that means he's remembering something sad but trying to hide it. Bucky squeezes his hand. “I’m thankful for Bucky, and for all of you, and Scout. I’m thankful to be here. It’s...it’s great to be here with you.”

“Better than some PR Stunt?”

Steve smiles warmly and squeezes back. “Of course.”

**[...]**

Dinner goes well. No one asks Steve about shit he doesn’t want to talk about. Steve eats a lot, which Bucky has been encouraging — he feels so embarrassed about needing to eat; if anyone comments on it, Bucky’s there to get them to step off — and makes Ma extremely happy.

They go out to play with Scout, who’s met up with Lady, Ma and Dad’s newest dog that likes to hide. Laura comes with them and asks obvious questions with eyes focused away from them. His grandparents come and sit on the back porch, and then his parents, and suddenly they’re all outside.

It’s really nice, nicer than most thanksgivings have been. Suddenly, Bucky feels a lot better about staying the night.

They barely have a moment alone, until bedtime. Bucky’s never lived in this house, so he doesn’t have an embarrassing childhood bedroom to show Steve. He does have embarrassing bedsheets that Ma gives them with a wicked smile. Fucking Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtles. Steve asks, very innocently, what they are, and how old he was when he got them.

“I was like...ten. They were popular in the early nineties,” Bucky explains, trying to get the sheets to fit over the stupid blow up mattress. Of course, there’s two twins, because his parents think they might have sex on their living room floor.

“I would’ve had Buck Rogers sheets.”

Bucky pauses, jerking his head up to look at Steve, who’s already got his sheet down. “Buck Rogers?”

“Yeah. He was the coolest guy on the radio.”

“ _Buck Rogers_ , though?”

Nonchalantly, Steve folds his arms under his head and closes his eyes. “I guess if we ever get married, I’ll have to take your last name.”

Bucky freezes; if they ever get married? He’s been avoiding thoughts of that, because it’s so scary. But they have been dating for more than a year and a half, and the thought has crossed his mind. He’s sorta thought that if they changed last names, he’d have to take Steve’s — Steve Rogers is Captain America; Steve Barnes doesn’t have that same ring to it. But Steve Barnes sounds good to him. And the thought of marrying him in front of their friends and family...it’s not a bad one.

Steve doesn’t seem to realize what’s he done. He asks, “You need any help with your dumb sheets?”

Bucky laughs, saying, “Uh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you to offer.”

Steve rolls off the mattress and pulls the sheets tight over the far end. Once Bucky has it all on there, he throws the pillow at Steve, who sets it down. Then he pushes his own mattress closer to Bucky’s.

They both use the bathroom at the same time, knowing how his grandparents like to take forever — they take turns using the toilet and brushing their teeth at the sink. Changing into pj’s consists of taking off their shirts and putting on their pajama pants. There’s no pretense of sleeping in different beds — Steve’s got a pillow on his bed, but his real pillow is Bucky’s chest.

He falls asleep easily, trusting Bucky and the house that much. It makes Bucky want to kiss him a million times, and cry, and wrap him up in a blanket burrito and burrow into bed. And also maybe marry him. His deep breathing is soothing to Bucky.

Ma comes out of her room, dressed in her nice Beauty And The Beast pajamas. She sits on the arm of the couch and just watches them for a moment. Bucky stares back, tilting his head back on the pillow.

“How is he?”

“He’s okay. Being around so many people usually isn’t an issue for him, but a family…. He’s not used to a big family.” Bucky notices, instantly, when Steve’s breathing changes again. It’s not enough for Ma to notice, Bucky thinks.

Ma rolls her lips, looking unspeakably sad. “I know, honey. He wasn’t overwhelmed, was he?”

“No. Honestly, I think Scout was more overwhelmed than Steve.”

“Good, good. You...are you going to be using both mattresses?”

“Ma. We’re grown men. We’re not gonna fuck out here.”

“ _James_. Don’t use that language where Laura could hear you.”

“Laura went to bed an hour ago, Ma!” He protests, hushed so Steve won’t wake up. Or at least, actually let Ma know he’s awake. “And, again, grown man.”

“Under my roof, under my rules.” When Bucky doesn’t say anything to that, she sighs. “Anyway, honey, I just wanted to say goodnight to you both.”

“Well, goodnight, then.”

Ma stands, holds her hands up. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“S’not like that — “ Bucky starts to say, but Ma shakes her head.

“No, no, it’s okay, honey. Goodnight. I love you.”

Bucky concedes defeat. “Love you, too, Ma.”

She heads back to her room. As soon as she’s out of hearing, Steve groans and burrows his head into Bucky’s chest.

“What?” Bucky laughs, sweeping a hand down Steve’s back.

“Le’s jus’ sleep,” Steve mumbles, apparently not as awake as Bucky thought.

“Okay,” Bucky whispers, trying to close his eyes and sleep. After a moment, he whispers, “s’weird, not hearing any noise from outside.”

Steve just snores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's a link to a site where you can learn about goldendoodles](http://dogtime.com/dog-breeds/goldendoodle#/slide/1). They are super cute, and I would love to have one -- just not a Large Standard lol.


	3. 2013 (only you can set my heart on fire, on fire)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Steve gets the middle tattooed onto his forearm](https://images.hellogiggles.com/uploads/2016/07/26100700/tattoo-0.jpg)   
>  [Bucky already has this tattoo, to the right of his bellybutton](https://img00.deviantart.net/610d/i/2015/113/5/0/ranger_wings_by_hassified-d5mak15.jpg)   
>  [This is the tattoo that Bucky gets, above his ankle](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/57/48/3e/57483efab4a6196ae79aa9ad13270a67--ufo-tattoo-xfiles-tattoo.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> This one is much shorter than the last two. Warnings for talk of needles related to getting a tattoo, and talk/thoughts about a possible character death (that does not and will not happen)
> 
>  
> 
> Title from Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding

## February 14th, 2013

“Is this going to hurt?” Steve asks, eyeing Bucky with some concern.

“No,” Bucky says, because it won’t. Well, it will, but Steve’s okay with needles and has had his entire body resized. In the grand scheme of things, this will be nothing. “C’mon, Steve, this barely compares to getting the serum.”

"The serum only had, maybe, six needles, and they each only stabbed me once. This is one needle stabbing me a couple hundred times."

Bucky turns to face Steve, gripping his biceps and squeezes comfortingly. “Steve, sweetheart. You will be okay. I’ll hold your hand, if you want me to.”

Steve frets, looking up at the windows of the tattoo parlor. “What about Standard Public Behavior?”

“No one will question it, not in here.”

They have an unspoken staring contest. Finally, Steve gives in. “Can I see your tattoo again?”

He just wants to see Bucky’s abs again. Bucky lifts his shirt just enough to show the tat, instantly hissing at how cold and windy it is. “Yours won’t be as detailed as this one is. Or well, the one you want has details, but they aren’t as small as they are in mine.” He has a Ranger tattoo, a bayonet with wings; there are tiny details he got over two appointments, that hurt like hell to get. The tattoos they’re getting today are bigger, so the minute details won’t be so itty bitty.

“How long will it take?” Steve asks, a frisson of fear in his voice. Any other day and Bucky would tease him — in fact, he’ll tease Steve about this tomorrow. But he can sense that this isn’t a good time to play around.

“Yours will take longer than mine. But that’s just because it’s bigger and has colors — it’ll probably take an hour, at most.”

Steve bites his lip. Bucky gives in and pulls him into a hug, squeezing the way Steve likes. He loves being cuddled, being taken care of, though he’d never admit to anyone — anyone but Bucky.

“You’re gonna be fine, Stevie.”

He takes a deep breath; Bucky can feel him bracing himself. “You’re right. Okay, okay, let’s do this.”

They step inside the parlor, which is bathed in sunlight and covered in pictures of tats the artists have done. Steve is wearing a hat and sunglasses, and Bucky attempted to give him freckles — he used some of May’s makeup she left and never took back home, and the freckles themselves look fake as fuck — in order to hide his appearance as best as they could; he’s wearing Bucky’s Pink Floyd t-shirt and jorts — Bucky refuses to say jean shorts when he could say a horribly awkward word instead. His hair is styled up, with gel, instead of how he usually keeps it. He looks nothing like the prim and proper Captain America everyone expects.

Things go smoothly, and no one seems to recognize him. The artists _can_ tell Steve’s nervous, though, and go along with it when Bucky asks if he can go first and have Steve watch. Bucky’s tattoo doesn’t take long, since it’s circular and not too big. Steve holds his hand and stares as the alien ship in the trees gets permanently etched on the skin above Bucky’s left ankle.

Bucky returns the favor, of course he does, and holds Steve’s hand while he gets the galaxy on his forearm. Luckily, Steve doesn’t squeeze hard enough to break anything. He’s seen what Steve can do to their headboard, and his fancy art pencils, and a million other, not-easily-breakable things. As an aside, Bucky would like to point out how much he likes how strong Steve is. It makes their hugs and cuddles very comfortable. And safe. Which, by the way, he refuses to admit to anyone but Steve himself.

Bucky was right — it only takes about an hour, because of how simple the design is. The artists tells them both how to clean it, and other things like don’t submerge it in water for a few days at the least, err on the side of caution with these things, and ended it with saying, “I’m sure you can handle this,” to Bucky. Who, in fact, _can_ handle it.

They pay, and are out within minutes. As soon as they’re on the street, headed to their place, Bucky elbows him teasingly. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”

Steve makes a contemplative noise, gives it a few minutes of thought. Then he turns to look at Bucky, and says, “Can we come back soon? I want more.”

Bucky laughs, but agrees, because yeah, he knows how Steve feels.

* * *

## August 20th, 2013

Bucky gets woken up the phone ringing.

For a long moment, he thinks _fuck it, I want to sleep_. But then he remembers that Steve got fucking kidnapped by some fucking AIM wannabes, and has been missing, or at least off the radar, for days. _Fuck_ , he thinks eloquently, and then reaches for his phone. Something pulls in his shoulder, but he pays it no attention, and hurries to answer it.

It’s some random SHIELD agent, who must be new by the way they stutter, “Ah, Mr. — Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers has been found. He’s in Medical right now.”

“What?” Bucky snaps even though he doesn’t mean to. It’s just, he’s half asleep and he’s been having a mental breakdown since he was informed that Steve’d been _fucking captured_. He jumps out of bed, steps wrong and hisses at the sudden stab of pain in his ankle. God, he's getting old. “When did he get in?”

“An hour ago, sir.”

“ _What_?”

“They — they said that he would want you to get some sleep? And the doctors — they needed time, to — to — “

Bucky rolls his eyes as he jumps into his jeans. Goddamn skinny jeans, goddamn Steve loving Bucky’s legs in them. “Okay, okay. Where is he?”

He gets directions to the room Steve’s in as he’s pulling on a shirt. He gets off the phone and huffs a sigh, because he really does not enjoy the newbies at SHIELD.  He packs a quick bag, too, since he knows how much Steve hates staying at the hospital, especially in a medical gown. Also, he has no idea how hurt Steve is — the newbie couldn’t say — and isn’t sure how long he’ll be stuck there. Don’t get him wrong, he has no problem with comforting Steve or being by his side; he just doesn’t want to be in Medical for a long time. At least Tony is good about him taking time off when Steve is hurt.

He heads to HQ, taking the train and then having to walk. The duffle bag is a real pain in his ass.  Everyone glances at it, and several huff a sigh and roll their eyes when he struggles to find a way to take up less space. And of course, he’s not allowed past the lobby until the entire bag has been searched. Bucky doesn’t even care that there’s still lube and condoms in the side pocket from when Steve took him up to Montauk for a week. He just wants to get to Steve. It’s been so long, or feels like it at least; he feels like he’s been deprived of Steve for weeks, months. And he’s spent every minute of it unable to think of anything _but_ Steve, has been unable to get all of the worst case scenarios out of his head.

It’s an hour before he gets to Steve, from the moment he left the apartment. It only occurs to him as he’s waiting for the newbie to show him to the elevator that he didn’t let Scout out, or even feed him. He texts May and asks if she’ll go over and do it; thankfully, she’s up and doesn’t mind. It’s a relief, one less worry on his mind. She asks him to update her on Steve, and he texts back, _of course. Gonna go see him now, ttyl and ly_.

It’s a long walk to Steve’s room, one that the newbie attempts to lighten by asking, “So...is it true you’re his boyfriend?”

Steve’s relationship status is something of an obvious secret at SHIELD — lower level agents aren’t supposed to know, but it’s one of the few rumors spread. Bucky’s heard the different variations from Steve, who hears them himself or with Nat’s help; Bucky’s a struggling college student majoring in something these people consider dumb, or he’s an ex-escort that quit the life for Steve, or a single mother. Most of the rumors make him out to be a woman, which, while Bucky doesn’t appreciate, he understands. Steve’s public image is so ingrained in people’s heads, of course they think he’s straight. And a conservative Republican, and racist, and so on. Anyway, point is, not many agents think Bucky’s Steve’s boyfriend simply because they don't think he could ever _have_ a boyfriend.

Bucky says, avoiding answering the real question, “I’m his next of kin.”

The newbie nods like they understand completely, and doesn’t say anything else until they’re standing outside Steve’s room. “He’s in here, Sergeant.”

“Thanks,” Bucky acknowledges, otherwise ignoring the newbie and going right in.

Along the wall are sleeping Avengers; Nat, who he’s become better friends with, is awake, under Clint’s arm. Her eyes are slits, but her gaze is intense — she’s been watching over Steve. He gives her a nod of acknowledgement as well, and then turns to look at Steve.

Hooked up to an IV drip and several machines, he looks small, hurt. Bruises color his face, his arms and wrists. Several of his fingers are in splints, one arm in a sling across his chest. He’s asleep, brow furrowed and lips twitching like he’s trying to talk. The blanket goes up to his chest, which rises and falls steadily. Bucky, in a different situation, might think about how he got those injuries, the injuries he can’t see, and how the hurt is probably much more than skin deep. All he really thinks is, _he’s alive, thank god he’s alive_.

Bucky moves to his side in something of a daze, a lump in his throat and heat in his eyes. Gingerly, he reaches out to touch Steve’s cheek — it’s so bruised he ends up holding still less than an inch away from Steve’s skin. _Maybe his hair is a safer bet_ , Bucky thinks hopefully, but upon looking, he can see stitches in several places on his scalp. He breathes in harshly, heart constricting in his chest.

He could’ve lost Steve.

Sure, Stevie’s strong and brave and only ever breaks when they’re cuddled up in bed, but none of that matters. Steve was captured by AIM copycats who could’ve killed him, could’ve taken him from Bucky. He inhales sharply, imagining that. He would have to tell everyone from Peter to Great Grandma Becca that Steve died, and he’d have to go home and be alone and he’d probably never get with anyone else because who can compare to Steve?

He must make a noise or something, because Natasha shifts, her suit brushing against Clint’s. At the same time, Steve’s breathing changes and with his free hand, he reaches up and grips Bucky’s wrist.

“Bucky?” He mumbles, eyes open in slits. “Buck?”

“Yeah, Stevie, ‘m here.” Bucky’s voice wavers. He swallows it down, and slips out of Steve’s grip enough to slide his hand down and lace their fingers together.

Steve swallows, licks at his lips. Bucky looks around, but there’s no water for him to give his boyfriend. Steve doesn’t notice, or maybe he does and just can’t find it in himself to make that clear — what he does do is smile, small and sweet and just for Bucky. “Love you.”

Bucky has to bite his lip to keep from making a noise. It takes him longer than he’d like to reply, “I love you too, so much.”

Steve keeps smiling as his eyes fall shut and he slips back into sleep. Bucky doesn’t let go of his hand, doesn’t think he’ll move again until Steve wakes back up. He has to be here when that happens — Steve can’t wake up alone. He _can’t_.

_So yeah_ , Bucky thinks, resolving himself, _I’m staying here._ Right _here_.

Twenty minutes later, it’s starting to hurt.  He shifts on his feet, leaning more on the bed than before. Only stopping when he hears a chuckle, he turns to look at the wall. Some small part of him wants to be embarrassed that the Avengers are all right there, even if they are asleep, except for Nat; mostly, he doesn’t care. Over the past two years, he’s gotten to know them better, and they him — they know how much he loves Steve, how close they are.

“You should sit down, he’ll be okay if you let go for a few minutes,” Nat says, very little inflection in her voice. He can tell she’s trying not to sound amused.

“What if he wakes up when I move?” Bucky doesn’t even care that he sounds weak.

“He won’t.” It’s all she says, and it’s not even all that reassuring, but somehow it bolsters him. He lets go only long enough to drag a chair over, and is right back by Steve’s side. Nat watches; he can feel her eyes on him.

For a while, Bucky just keeps his eyes on Steve, watching his eyes move under his eyelid. He clenches his jaw, licks at his lips. He looks exactly like he does when he’s sleeping. To Nat, he asks, “What?”

He glances at her; she’s looking at Steve, too. “Are you okay with this?”

“With what? Him being an Avenger? ‘Course I’m okay with it.”

Her eyes slide to him, knowingly. “So you’re okay with him going out and fighting monsters, and organizations that have it out for him. You’re okay with him getting hurt and not being able to tell you.”

“No, I’m not okay with all of that.” He _isn’t_ — but he and Steve have talked about it so many times, he feels like it’s all been said. “But I’m okay with him being this, living this life. I understand it, as much as I can. I’m not happy with it, but I love him, so I learned how to deal with it.”

“And he knows that?” She asks, doubt clear.

Bucky rolls his eyes fondly. “Yeah, he does. We have adult conversations, you know. It’s not all ‘look how cute Scout is’.”

She sighs, deep but not loud. “You’re good for him,” and though it feels like it comes right from left field, he can see the jump she made.

“He’s good for me,” he replies, giving her a smile. She’s Steve’s best friend other than him, and while things between them aren’t one hundred percent yet, they’re...friends. Yeah, friends. Not super close, but he can certainly relate to her — Steve’s told him about how she admitted he compromises her. Steve’s impressed on Bucky how much that really means. “Even if he scares the shit out of me when these things happen.”

Nat looks at Steve again, a small, slightly lopsided smile on her face. “He makes us all feel that way.”

“Must be something in his blood,” Bucky jokes despite himself.

Nat jokes back, “Maybe he’s been hit on the head ten times too many.”

And — after days of worrying, of cuddling with Scout and feeling sick with all the horrible things that could be happening — Bucky feels light. It’s like a hundred pound weight has been taken off his chest; he can breathe again.

It’s such a nice feeling, and Nat has had no small part to do with it (of course, most of it is seeing Steve in the flesh, being able to touch him), so he _has_ to continue teasing. _Has to_ , y’see. And when he does, she counters it; they only stop when he’s laughing so hard Bruce wakes up, blinks at them, grumbles something about “going green”, and drops off again. Which, yeah, sets off more laughs, from them both this time. Steve smiles wide and grips at Bucky’s hand in his sleep.

It’s not a perfect moment but certainly one he’ll remember for a long time to come. And everyone he tells will know that when he finally fell asleep that night, the only reason he was in bed with Steve was because Nat had threatened the doctors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I have the next chapter written, but not the next two (though I know what I'm going to be doing with them). Do you want me to post the next chapter as quickly as I have the first three, or space it out so you won't have to wait a long time for the next chapter?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. 2014 (promise I'll always be there promise I'll be the cure)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from The Cure by Lady Gaga
> 
> Warning for coming out and being in the spotlight while doing so. Internalized homophobia and mentions of DADT are also included.  
> Remember, all versions of celebs depicted in this fic are fictionalized and not meant to be shown to the actual person. It's nothing major, but I still get major flashbacks from seeing other people's work on Graham Norton.

## April 15th, 2014

Steve laughs, and it’s so cute, the way he’s sitting there with their two new fur babies in his lap, that Bucky can feel his non-existent ovaries exploding.

Romeo, a Maine Coon who is also Bucky’s present to Steve for their three year anniversary, is on Steve’s shoulder, sniffing at his shirt. Juliet, a Ragamuffin Steve got for him, is clawing him in the chest, even through his shirt, and purring so loud Bucky can hear. And Bucky’s trying to be a responsible adult and apply to college.

See, Bucky has always said that once he was settled down, he’d do two things — get a cat, and go back to school. Okay, maybe not always, but he’s always wanted to be a teacher. When he was a kid, he would sit his and May’s toys and stuffed animals out and tell them all about the things he saw on TV, mainly Oprah and FRIENDS and sometimes Fresh Prince. He’d even thought about going to school to become one right out of high school, but then 9/11 happened. He went into the army, came out of it only good at killing people and doing math on the fly, and went to school, majoring in Info Tech, minoring in education. Eventually he got a job at Stark Industries. He’s never forgotten his dream job, but it’s been pushed to the back of his mind.

Now, though, he and Steve are in such a good place, they can afford three pets, including a big ass dog.

They went out and got them this morning, from two different breeders who were both pretty nice and didn’t recognize Steve. (May taught Bucky how to do makeup freckles and contouring, thank god, so Steve looks pretty different when they go out these days. There’s no hiding his body, but when people don’t think you’re a national icon, you don’t get mobbed or even looked at so easily.) Scout is locked up in their bedroom, since they’re still trying to let the kittens get acclimated. Unfortunately, Bucky can’t be down on the floor with Steve — he’s looking into online classes and finalizing some things. And also working, because Tony had some Great Idea last night and he needs it all put in a secure location.

Bucky’s almost positive Tony only keeps him around because of Steve, or obligation, or something. JARVIS could be doing this, so why is he?

It’s quick work, either way, so he does it with only mild complaining. He wants to be with the kitties, with _Steve_. Cute animals always make Steve even cuter by association — Juliet curled up in the corner of the couch, a small little fluff ball, and Steve had cooed at her. _Cooed_. Do you see Bucky’s problem.

Steve doesn’t even feel bad for him, or at least not enough to not tease him.

“Bucky! Come see Romeo!” Steve had called from the living room, sounding so excited and in awe that Bucky stood without even thinking about it. Then — “No, don’t, gotta keep working!”

Bucky fell back down in his seat, and groaned. _Fucker_.

He does it again every ten or so minutes; Bucky can hear Scout whining, wanting his Stevie — and dammit, Bucky feels for the poor boy. He wants his Stevie, too. He wants his Stevie and his kittens.

It makes him work extra hard, which is good in the long run — he gets done quicker, and hurries out to see their new fluff balls. Of course, either because Steve has awful luck or because Bucky has amazing luck, when he sits down on the floor next to Steve, the kittens both jump in his lap.

“Aww, babies, hi,” Bucky coos immediately, scratching under their chins. They purr loudly, gazing adoringly up at him. “You’re so cute, yes you are….”

It goes on like that for a little while, Bucky completely at the whim of their new babies. When he remembers that Steve is sitting there watching, it’s hard to feel embarrassed. Animals are his weakness, especially puppies and kittens, and this is far from the most embarrassing thing Steve has seen him do.

Steve’s grinning at him, and not in his ‘I am barely holding back laughter’ kind of way. In his ‘I am so in love with you’ way.

“I understand what you mean about hot guys with baby animals now,” is all he says.

“Hot guys and baby animals are two of the best sights on this Earth,” Bucky says sanctimoniously, turning up his nose like he’s the Queen of England or something. As Juliet demands more attention, Bucky says, “Hey, do you think they’re ready to meet to Scout?”

Steve thinks on it, watching Bucky and the kitties with hearts in his eyes. “Yeah, probably.”

(It turns out that cats need more time to adjust to new living situations and humans than dogs do. Let’s just say, the worst injuries are small scratches and wounded pride on Scout’s part.)

* * *

## May 1st, 2014

The urge to finally do it — come out to the world, as a couple — hits Steve late at night. He’d been up for thirty-six hours and then slept for thirteen, and now it’s two a.m. They’re both up, because Bucky would like to see his boyfriend and also because of solidarity, and watching Bob’s Burgers. (It's a good thing Bucky only takes online classes.) Steve and he have been watching it their entire relationship — it started airing in January 2011, just before they got together — and laugh their asses off everytime. After long missions, Steve often feels uncomfortable in his skin, still stuck in fight mode; Bob’s Burgers is a good way to bring him down to Bucky.

They’re watching Louise run away from the dentist guy, the most recent episode they only got through the first five minutes of before Steve was whisked away for his mission. It’s hilarious, even though Louise, or rather the thought of Peter acting like Louise, scares Bucky. Steve’s relaxed, tucked into his side, under his arm. Their couch pops out, and so Romeo and Juliet are laying at their feet, Scout in his bed which they’ve moved next to the couch. Scout doesn’t like feeling excluded, especially when the cats aren’t. He also feels he should be allowed on the couch like the cats, even though he’s much bigger than them. It’s nice, peaceful. Neither one of them are awake because of nightmares, or any other bad thing — they’re just awake. And then it’s suddenly not peaceful, starting with the commercial break.

As soon as Gayle is off the screen, Steve sits up. Bucky turns to look at him, because they’ve been here for a while and they were _comfortable_ — no way are they gonna get that position back. Steve’s got a peculiar look on his face, something similar to deep thought. _Odd_ , Bucky thinks a tad sarcastically, _Bob’s Burgers doesn’t_ call _for deep thought_. Whatever _is_ causing that can’t be good, not here and now, anyway. “Steve?”

Steve smiles, a little tremulously, and warning bells go off in Bucky’s head. He’s nervous; Bucky has no clue what it could be about, though. Since coming back, nothing has happened, or been scheduled, or anything like that. “Should we — well, I was thinking— no, no, forget it. I’m gonna,” he lifts his thumb over his shoulder in an approximation of where the bathroom is, “be right back.”

He goes, struggling with keeping the popped out part up and not disturbing Romeo, who meows almost reproachfully at Steve. Bucky stays on the couch, telling Romeo to hush, and feeling confused. It takes Steve long enough in the bathroom Bucky has to pause it before the commercials end; it makes Bucky wish he had Steve’s hearing. Could he be having a panic attack? Or is Bucky’s anxiety just making him think there’s something going on Steve?

By the time Steve comes back, Bucky’s worked himself up into thinking something awful happened on the mission that Steve hasn’t told him about. Steve’s run his hands through his hair, and his face looks wet like he splashed his face.

“Are you okay?” Bucky blurts, unable to help himself.

Steve’s eyebrows go up in surprise, and smiles again, tighter than usual. “Yeah, I’m fine, Buck.”

Panic leaves Bucky’s chest like air leaving a balloon. “Well, what were you gonna say, then?”

“Uh. I was just thinking...Nat told me it’s Global Love Day today. And we’ve been together for three years now. I was thinking about coming out.”

“Like...coming out, coming out?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, fidgeting with his fingers. “Tell everyone I’m bi, that we’re together.”

Bucky’s breath catches in his throat. They’ve been avoiding it, being known. Bucky’s been leaving it up to Steve, mostly because he’s sure that Steve will talk to him about it before they do anything. Which he is. Which means they might be coming out to the whole world soon. Hoo boy.

“Like...on TV?”

“I was thinking about doing it on social media. It might be easier.”

Bucky blinks. “Uh, okay. Why don’t you come sit back down?” It’ll be easier to have this conversation close.

Steve settles down on the couch, and he and Bucky lay differently, so Steve’s on Bucky’s chest. “You want to come out?”

“Yeah. Like I said, we’ve been together for a while and I want to be able to take you out on dates. I want to show you off, Buck. I want everyone to know about us. But you know that the paparazzi are going to be... an issue.”

“You mean they’re gonna be fucking crazy. We should probably ask Tony to update our security before we do anything.”

Steve agrees, and they talk a little bit more about why Steve wants to do this, and what they’ll do once they’re out, and what Bucky’s supposed to do when Steve comes out.  They debate the merits of Twitter vs Instagram and whether or not Steve should post it on both. Bob’s Burgers doesn’t get turned back on, and they eventually fall asleep there on the couch.

**[...]**

Steve’s up before Bucky, making coffee at — Bucky checks the time — ten a.m. Bucky can _feel_ Steve’s anxious energy from here; on days like these, he’ll stay with Bucky longer, until Bucky wakes up. Another glance around tells Bucky that Scout’s already been taken for a walk (his leash is on the other hook), and the cats fed (one of them is in the litter box, scratching).

He sits up and stretches his shoulders and back, groaning. Within a few minutes, he’s in the kitchen, slinging his arms around Steve’s waist and leaning them both into the counter. “Morning, Stevie.”

“Morning, Buck. Sleep well?”

“As well as I can on the couch.” Bucky shrugs, nuzzling into his shoulder. “You been up long?”

Steve tenses, for half a second, then loosens. Bucky hugs him closer; Steve’s hands rest on Bucky’s arms. Steve’s hellbent on being outwardly tough, but Bucky can always get past that to what he’s really feeling. (He’s still nervous, horribly so, and uncomfortable, too, in case you were wondering.) It’s one of the few things Bucky doesn’t like about Steve, though it’s not really his fault — he can’t let go of the societal expectations the forties had on men. He gets lost in his own head way too easy. “Nah. Been up ‘bout an hour.”

“Mm. You take Scout to the park?” When Steve nods, a flush creeping up his neck, Bucky adds, “You stink. Wanna take a shower?”

Steve turns around then, keeping himself in the circle of Bucky’s arms. There are bags under his eyes, and his hair flops forward onto his forehead, drying sweat clinging to it and his face. He’s beautiful, handsome, stunning, whatever you wanna say. Most importantly, Bucky’s gotten him to smile. “You coming with? What about your coffee?”

Bucky waves it off, because really, he’ll be okay without it for a little while. Plus, he has a feeling that Steve, whose well being comes before most things, will wake him up once they’re in the shower. “It’ll be okay, baby.”

And it is. They come out half an hour later, washed and happy and significantly more relaxed, on Steve’s part. It’s a day off for them both, and Bucky makes sure they make the best of it — they watch more Bob’s Burgers, get take out for lunch, talk about nothing for an entire hour.

Eventually, Steve can’t help but think about _it_. They’re still on the couch, Steve in the corner this time, with Bucky leaning back against his chest. There’s a pillow from their bed between them, so it’s a little more comfortable for them both; even though it, Bucky can tell when Steve’s mind returns to what they talked about last night. Or this morning. Whatever.

Steve breathes in deep, bolstering himself. Bucky’s been playing with his (frankly amazing) fingers, but they’re clasped now, so Bucky can give all the comfort he can. “Bucky? Can you help me figure out what to say?”

“Of course,” he says, sitting up and turning so he’s sitting cross-legged between Steve’s splayed-out ones. Steve’s phone is at the foot of the couch, which is kicked out, and Bucky grabs it, pulling up the Notes app. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, trying to think of what others have said, how they’ve worded it. Eventually, he asks, “What were you thinking about saying?”

“I want to mention you.” He’s very firm about this; Bucky types it in all capital letters. “I want to say that I’m doing this in honor of Global Love Day, and that I’m bisexual, not gay. That I’m so glad we can be together safely and openly. That I never, in a million years, thought I would be able to do this. And I want to say that I did love Peggy — that I do love Peggy….” Steve drags a hand through his hair, making a tired noise. “I want everyone to know that I’m bi, that I love you, and that I’m proud of who I am.”

Bucky swallows, hearing the pain in Steve’s voice and feeling useless, like he can’t do anything to help ease it. He never felt this way when he came out to his family; the closest is probably when he was serving. DADT meant he couldn’t show any attraction to other men; he hid behind his bisexuality, only letting out the part of him that’s attracted to women. In hindsight, Bucky knows he did what he could to keep himself safe but it still feels like he was lying to himself.

Steve’s told him about what it was like. He thought of himself as “half normal, half wrong”. He hid it from everyone. He was closeted, lonely as hell — Bucky hates thinking about it, really. It’s upsetting. It makes him want to go back to Steve when he was young and tell him there’s nothing wrong with him.

Bucky does his best to write down everything Steve says, and offers up advice where he can. Once it’s written, he helps Steve pick pictures — he’s putting it up on Twitter, so they pick three. One is a mirror selfie Steve took of the two of them wearing Black Widow and Thor pajamas, one is a picture of them laughing and playing in the snow, and one is of just Bucky, taken recently, with Scout and the kittens curled up next to him, on both sides. They’re all cute pictures, ones that will hopefully endear people to their relationship.

It’s weird that Bucky wants that, but people shipping them is much more preferable to people hating them. Bucky’s seen what people say to Pepper; he isn’t sure he’s strong enough to handle it.

Steve has two Twitter accounts; the one where he’s Captain America, aptly handled @captainamerica, and the one where he’s Steve Rogers, with the handle of @stevegrogers. @captainamerica has sixty-five million followers; @stevegrogers has eighty million. He pulls up @stevegrogers, gets the pictures he wants, types a quick message, and then takes a deep breath. Bucky gives him a smile, runs his hands up and down Steve’s legs, sending all the bravery he can.

Steve posts it.

**[...]**

> **Steve Rogers** @stevegrogers
> 
> In honor of it being Global Love Day. [attached: 4 pictures]

“I’m bisexual. I’ve known for a long time (since I was 16 years old), though I just learned about that term three years ago. I used to think I was 'half queer' or 'half normal, half wrong'. I thought I would never get to explore that part of me, and for a long time, I didn’t want to. If I ignored it, it would go away. But after I got the serum, it didn’t go away. At the time, I pushed it to the side, and focused on Peggy, who I want to be clear, I did love. I still love her. But I also love someone else, now. I’m so glad that I can be open about this part of myself, about my boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, without being in danger of being beaten up, or chemically castrated, or sent to an institution. I want everyone to know how amazing Bucky is, and how much I love him. He’s been my best friend, my rock, my everything since I woke up in this century. He helped me find the courage to post this. In honor of Global Love Day, I want to say I love you so, so much, Bucky. — Steve Rogers”

**[...]**

Steve turns his phone off, and Bucky does the same. While Bucky’s got the newest generation Starkphone, without any bells or whistles, Steve’s got a special Starkphone that’ll probably never go on sale — it’s made for Avengers. Even turned off, if the Avengers are called in, the phone will ring.

After setting up the kittens in Scout’s old playpen, and giving Scout a bone to chew on, they watch all three Toy Story movies. Bucky makes popcorn, salty and buttery and really, really good. They have more take out, for dinner this time, and then watch Tangled. They lay different ways for each movie; during Tangled, Steve spoons Bucky, an arm over his stomach and their legs in a pile. At some point, Bucky becomes aware that there’s a hitching noise coming from Steve.

He turns without hesitating, and finds that yes, Steve’s crying, tears sliding out of his eyes, which are closed tightly. When Bucky says, soft and gentle and just for Steve, “Stevie,” he shakes his head.

“‘M fine, Buck,” he manages wetly.

Bucky doesn’t say anything, doesn’t think he needs to, just pulls Steve’s head into the crook of his neck and holds him. So close, Steve feels safe enough to cry. His arms tighten around Bucky’s waist, while Bucky’s own pull their chests together, and cradle the back of his head. Steve isn’t a loud crier, biting off every whimper and sob. Bucky’s tried to get him to open up, to let it _all_ out, but it hasn’t happened yet. Now is no time to bring it up, either way, so Bucky doesn’t. All he does is listen, hold Steve through it, heart constricting the entire time.

Eventually, Bucky pulls away, insists they go to bed; Steve rubs at his eyes and face so Bucky can’t see, and lets Bucky guide him to their room. He undresses and gets under the blankets, pulling it over his head immediately. Bucky sits on the edge, rubbing his back for long minutes. Steve doesn’t cry again, not that Bucky can hear at least, but he does ask why Bucky’s not in bed with him, muffled and raspy.

“Gotta take out Scout before I can, baby.” He doesn’t want to leave but it has to be done. Neither one of them want to clean up any messes Scout would no doubt make.

Steve grumbles, understandably clingy. Bucky leaves after kissing his head through the blanket and murmuring, “I love you,” and makes it quick. Scout is happy to get out, and does his business easily. Bucky had taken his phone, which he checks now — fifty new texts, most from his family and some from friends. He sees that at least two people he hasn’t spoken to since high school have somehow gotten his number and suddenly want to “hang out”. There’s a sweet message from Great-Grandma Becca, who probably had her neighbor help her — it says, “So happy for you boys. I love you both, and I wish you the best. Love, Great Grandma Becca x”.

Very pointedly ignoring his feed on Twitter, he goes straight to @stevegrogers, likes the tweet and retweets it, adding, “I love you too baby”.

Then he closes out of the app, and calls May. She answers immediately, foregoing pleasantries for, “ _Holy shit_ Bucky, have you seen the news? Do you know what people are saying about you? Oh my god!”

He can’t help but laugh, nervous and happy all at once. Scout, meanwhile, starts to bark at a nearby bird. He shushes the dog quickly, then says to May, “Uh, we’ve actually been on an internet blackout. Is it...bad?”

May’s breathing weird, he thinks, like she’s been running around in a panic, or in excitement. It’s hard to tell. “No, not at all. Okay, well some people are saying it’s a publicity stunt, but mostly it’s really good! Ben and Peter are recording different news shows for you two to watch later. A lot of people are being really supportive.”

Relief fills Bucky’s chest — he’d been so scared that the reaction would be bad, but it’d been hard to focus on when Steve is so obviously more affected by this. As he starts back home, he breathes in and out deeply. “Okay. How’s Peter? Does he know what this means? We didn’t even think to ask you guys….”

May scoffs. “You don’t need to ask us to come out.”

“We do when it’s going to affect Peter’s life. Tons of kids at his school know about his Cool Uncle Bucky. You know, one who lives in Brooklyn, with his boyfriend Steve.” Several people turn his way, and it hits Bucky that holy shit, he can never go outside without being spotted again. He lowers his voice, looking down and avoiding looking anyone in the eye, even though it’s probably only making him more obvious. “I mean, that’s a hell of a coincidence. And I don’t want him to get bullied.”

“He’s only told Ned about you, Bucky, don’t let it go to your head. And we have talked to him about it. He knows, or at least has an idea of what is going to start happening. He also told me to tell you that he’d like to meet Steve sometime soon.”

Bucky winces as he and Scout come upon their building. He still hasn’t managed to get Steve and Peter to meet. Every time they set something up, Peter gets sick, or Steve has a mission, or Peter gets detention, or something. It’s sort of ridiculous that they still haven’t met. It’s been three years. It’s a fucking cosmic joke.

“I’ll talk to Steve about it. He’s taking it hard. It’s pretty emo over here.”

May doesn’t laugh, even though she loves when people describe things or other people as emo. “How’s he doing?”

Bucky shortens the leash as he and Scout enter the building and then the elevator. Scout knows the rules about behaving inside, and is a good boy — Bucky’ll give him a treat when they get back in. With a sigh, he says, “I distracted him for a while but he started crying. We were going to lay down but I had to take Scout out.”

“Oh,” May says, like she’s surprised, “Are you almost home? I told Peter he could say hi.”

“Yeah, I’m in the elevator. Put him on, or no, put me on speaker. I wanna say hi to Ben, too.”

It only takes a second, before Bucky hears, “Uncle Bucky!” and “Hey, Buck.”

“Hey guys!”

“Uncle Bucky! Your pets are _sooooo_ cute.” Peter shouts, and Bucky can just imagine the thoughts running through his nephew’s head — he’s wanted a pet his whole life. His parents hadn’t been interested, since they were already busy with work and with Peter wanting to be a boy. As for May and Ben, they just don’t have the money for it.

He laughs, “I know. I promise, you’ll get to meet them and Steve soon.”

Peter cheers, though he quiets when Ben says, “Bucky, Peter was wondering if he could talk to Steve.”

“Uh, maybe? I’ll ask him. He’s pretty tired, kiddo. You might have to wait until tomorrow.”

Peter doesn’t seem to be deterred. “Okay!”

Bucky steps out of the elevator, then, and comes face to face with their neighbor. Her name is Hazel, and she’s not much older than Bucky, probably thirty-one at most. She and her wife, Naomi, have lived here longer than Steve and Bucky have, with their son Wyatt being a constant source of amusement through the walls. They haven’t talked much, mostly because he and Steve both enjoy their private lives.

She’s just...leaning against the wall by her doorway, wearing comfortable clothes and those fuzzy clogs. Looking right at him, like she wants to talk, he notes.

Into the phone, he says, “Hey, can I call you back?”

Peter whines, but May and Ben both agree, say bye, and Bucky hears Peter ask if he can have ice cream in the meantime.

Once the phone is down, Hazel smiles at him, gentle, and says, “I’m glad I caught you.”

Bucky approaches his door, intending to let Scout in so he can relax. “Yeah? You need somethin’?” He unlocks the door as he talks, and unclips the leash. Scout bounds inside, heading towards the water bowl like usual. Bucky closes the door gently, and turns to face Hazel.

She’s got a few gray hairs, and lines on her face; Wyatt sure seems like a handful. “I just wanted to say I saw what Steve posted.” Bucky tenses instantly, thinks _it’s starting_ , but Hazel just chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to freak out on you. Naomi thought we should let you know how... _proud_ we are of you both.”

He loosens, grinning at her. “Thanks. I’ll let Steve know.”

She nods, stepping back towards her door. “Yeah, do that. Also, we’re really happy for you, too. It’s nice being out, and you’ve already helped so many kids.”

“What?”

“Captain America being LGBT is a big deal,” she says, not really answering his question, but whatever. “Anyway, I’ll let you go. Thanks for letting me steal some of your time.”

Bucky shrugs. “No problem. Tell Wyatt Scout says hi, will you?”

She laughs as she opens her door, and her parting words are, “Yeah, yeah, I will. Bye, Bucky.”

“Bye, Hazel,” he replies, and returns home himself.

There are just a few more things to do — give Scout that treat, make sure the cats’ litter is clean, and that everything is where it should be. It’s not, but the biggest issues he’s willing to deal with at that moment are the pillow and blanket still on the couch. He drags them back to the bedroom, where Steve’s staring at the painting of the sunset on the wall. The sheet is pooled around his waist, showing off his chest and allowing Bucky to see that he’s breathing normally. When Bucky comes in, Steve’s eyes flick to him, a small grin appearing.

“She said we helped kids,” he says, half-muffled. Bucky throws the pillow and blanket at the bed, narrowly missing him; Steve doesn’t seem to mind at all. “I want to see what people are saying, but I wanted to wait for you.”

Bucky returns the grin, shucking off his clothes. Suddenly, the only thing he wants to do is get under the blankets with Steve, cuddle with him. “Let’s wait until tomorrow. We gotta call Peter, then we need to sleep. C’mon, sit up, I wanna FaceTime.”

It takes a few minutes for them to get situated, pillows up against the headboard and blanket covering their modesty, though they’re both in boxer-briefs. May responds to Bucky’s text of “quick ft?” by just calling him.

Peter’s face is the first thing they see, way too close to see everything. Just his brown eyes, and practically up his nose.

“Ew, Peter!” Bucky crows, mindful of the hour. It’s not quite ten thirty — usually Peter’s laying down by now, but it’s been an eventful day, and he doesn’t want to wake up Wyatt. “Look at all those boogers!”

Immediately offended, Peter pulls the phone away with a scoff. “I don’t have boogers, Uncle Buck, I’m not _gross_.”

Steve jokes, (and _jeez_ , Bucky thinks, _he’s so strong_ ), “I saw three different ones.”

Peter seems to only notice Steve once he’s talking, and then stares at him. He’s seen Steve many times, on TV and in pictures, and has heard stories from Bucky. This is different, though, made obvious by the way Peter is silent.

May, distant but not quiet, asks, “What’s up, Peter?”

That seems to do the trick; he unfreezes, grinning so wide they can see all the holes where he’s missing teeth. “It’s Steve! Hi! Oh my god!”

Steve waves, a soft look on his face. And there go Bucky’s non-existent ovaries again. “Hey, Peter. Bucky said you wanted to say hi before bed?”

Peter nods enthusiastically, his shaggy hair flopping in his face. “I did! I saw you on TV today, and I wanted to say I think you’re really, really brave. And also I’ve wanted to meet you for like... _ever_.” He laughs, shaking his head at himself. “I don’t know if this counts, but I don’t care.”

“Sure, this counts,” Bucky interjects.

Steve glances from Bucky to the phone, biting his lip. “Peter, thank you for thinking it was brave — “

“I said I think _you’re_ brave, dude.”

“ — Well, okay, thank you, then.” He’s flushed, now, and Bucky can feel the awkwardness emanating from him. He slides his hand between Steve and the pillow, up his shirt, so he can rub his boyfriend’s back. Steve relaxes, shoulders dropping. Bucky’s probably going to have to give him a massage soon; there’s way too much tension there.

Peter’s a smart kid; he sees how tense Steve is, how he loosens with Bucky’s touch. “Yeah, of course. We recorded some of the news reactions for you guys to watch, sometime. Or maybe just keep forever. I dunno. Anyway, uh — am I keeping you up?”

“We just got on the phone, Pete, and it’s only ten-thirty. We’re good. Do _you_ wanna go?”

“Oh! No, no, I was just — I thought, maybe — uh.” He breathes in deep, then restarts. “No, I don’t wanna go. I wanna keep talking. Um. Am I allowed to ask about — ?”

Steve, who watched Peter ramble with a growing grin of his own, says, “You can ask, but I might not be able to answer.”

Which, and Bucky should’ve known this would happen, sets Peter off like it’s the races. He has a list of questions prepared — everything from ‘How sweaty is the suit?’ to ‘What’s your I’m-A-Superhero-Hear-Me-Roar playlist?’. Steve answers all the questions kindly, gently deflecting when it’s something he can’t talk about. They end up talking for half an hour, and Peter has hearts in his eyes when Bucky insists they end the call.

Steve’s more awake, not quite ready to sleep anymore. Without having to speak about it, they stay up. Bucky’s thinking about offering that massage when Steve says, “Should we...look?”

Bucky glances at him, seeing the anxiety and fear in his eyes. And this is a horrible idea, Bucky knows it is, but he also knows that Steve won’t be able to sleep until he sees the reaction.

He sighs, pulling his shirt off the rest of the way. “Yeah. But only for five minutes, and then we’re going to sleep, okay?”

He nods, biting his lip and pulling out his phone. As he opens up Twitter, Bucky tucks himself into his side.

It’s trending worldwide. Steve’s gained thousands of followers.

The first tweet that shows up is from, of all people, Neil deGrasse Tyson.

> **Neil deGrasse Tyson** @neiltyson
> 
> @stevegrogers Congratulations, Captain! May your future be filled with bright days, new opportunities and success in each goal you pursue.

Steve absolutely loves Neil deGrasse Tyson; Bucky can’t even imagine how he must be feeling, especially if Bucky himself is _this_ touched. His smile tells a good portion of the story, though. He screenshots it.

Next is — and holy fucking shit, Bucky thinks — Michelle Obama.

> **The First Lady** @FLOTUS44
> 
> @stevegrogers Congratulations, Captain. Barack and I are so happy for you, and for Bucky. You are both so brave.

Tony’s tweeted about it, too.

> **Tony Stark** @realtonystark
> 
> @stevegrogers Finally!! I’ve only been waiting to show off Buck Buck for, like, three years. Still, congrats, man! Out and Proud and In Love and all that

Steve laughs, quote tweeting and adding, “Thank you Tony <3 we don’t have to talk about this ever again.” Bucky can just imagine Tony’s nose scrunching up at his capacity for emotions being out there on the internet.

The next tweet they see is just a fan, no one they know. Bucky’s most worried about these — who knows what random people are willing to say? And who knows how Steve, sensitive but so unwilling to show it, will react?

> **Dril wannabe** @mahhhlybaby
> 
> @stevegrogers uhhh dude u been hacked??

And honestly, Bucky’s first thought is that if this person wants to be _Dril_ , they must be moronic. His second thought is _is that enough to cause a bad reaction?_.

When he looks over, Steve’s eyes are pinched at the corners, his mouth downturned. Where he had loosened with all the kind words, he’s now tense. Before Bucky can say anything, or even comfort Steve with skin contact of some sort, Steve’s answering the wannabe.

> **Steve Rogers** @stevegrogers
> 
> @mahhhlybaby No, I wasn’t hacked. It’s very much real. Not sure how I’d doctor those photos, anyway.

Bucky laughs, if only because he can see Steve restraining himself from getting nastier. Steve glances at him, a smirk on his lips, devious.

“What’d you want to say?”

Steve turns and they resettle together before he says, “I wanted to say ‘Bitch, can you read?’ But that seemed a little...excessive.”

Bucky bursts out laughing, imagining Steve’s perfect bitch face on it’s top notch, Steve’s bitchiest voice asking, “Bitch, can you read?” It’s hilarious. In the face of Bucky’s mirth, Steve chuckles too, and it devolves quickly from there to full blown giggling.

It’s hard to come down from it, truthfully. The joy of coming out, of being free, and no overly horrible reactions (so far), and finally, Steve’s joke. It’s all too much not to laugh at. If they don’t laugh, they might cry, and it’s been awhile since they last did that. It was sad, then, caused by a nightmare. This is happy. Laughing fits it more.

When they do wind down, it’s only because Steve slides his hand over Bucky’s ribs to his back and pulls him into a kiss. It’s short, sweet, no tongue at all. Not that Bucky wants that right now — he really does want to go to bed.

“Thank you,” he whispers against Bucky’s lips, “I love you.”

Bucky’s heart melts. This is going to be difficult, he can already tell, but Steve loves him, and he loves Steve. They’ll get through it together.

“I love you too,” he says, and then pulls Steve closer by the shoulders so he can kiss him again.

* * *

## May 30th, 2014

Bucky’s not a shy guy. He’s never gotten stage fright. But school plays and business meetings are a whole different ball game to going on Ellen.

He’s going on Ellen.

Technically, Steve is the guest, and Bucky’s just going out there with him. But whatever — Bucky is about to go on Ellen.

He’s maybe freaking out. Yeah, you can psych yourself up as much as you want — and Bucky’s had a month to do so — but all that preparation is nothing when you’re about to go on almost-live TV. Almost live TV! Ellen!

Steve steps in front of him, shielding him from seeing the stage. Warm hands rest on Bucky’s upper arms, and Steve ducks his chin to meet Bucky’s eyes. Soothingly, he says, “Hey, hey, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“She’s been advertising this since you called her,” Bucky points out. It’s nice of Steve to say that, but it’d just be worse to cancel now, when they’re all the way in Burbank, California. California! Bucky’s never travelled this far West, only East.

“Well...you can skip it. I have to go out there, but they’ll understand if I say you don’t feel well.”

Faintly, Bucky can see that several people who work behind the scenes are staring at them. He also notes that Steve looks concerned, like he thinks Bucky might puke or something. He sighs, swallows hard, and runs a hand through his hair (all of his tells, if Steve’s to be believed). “I’ll be okay,” he says, unsure who he’s reassuring more.

Steve’s hands, which had pulled away when Bucky lifted his arm, now slide around his waist and pull him into a hug. Bucky melts into it easily, wrapping his arms around Steve’s chest and dropping his head into the crook of Steve’s neck. His amazing boyfriend rubs circles on his back, whispers in his ear, “We’ll be okay.”

It bolsters him enough that by the time they’re walking out, holding hands less because someone told them to and more because they both need the support, Bucky’s not on the verge of hyperventilating. Don’t get him wrong, he’s still so nervous he can see his hand shaking from where it’s curled into a loose fist at his side, but it's better than it was.

He’s been the center of a lot of attention this past month. TMZ and Perez Hilton and Wendy Williams and seemingly every morning show in America has talked about him, splashed his picture around. A whole fandom, _Steve’s_ fandom, has split, either loving or hating him. He hasn’t been able to walk Scout or even go to work without someone asking him if he bottoms for Steve. He’s dealt with it as best as he can, and maybe it’d be a dealbreaker in some other situation, but not with Steve. Steve hates the attention too, comes home so tense and guarded it’s upsetting. Eventually, after a five day mission that ended with Steve breaking his right femur and a week of begging for more content (as if they’re fucking YouTubers, or something), they conceded to an interview.

An interview with Ellen. America’s favorite gay.

She’d been ecstatic to have them, made room for them in her schedule, even offered to fly them out. The whole nine yards. They’ve already met her, before she went out and started filming a little while earlier. She’s nice, funny, amazing. But Bucky’s about to be on live television — or well, almost live — baring his soul to her, a stranger, albeit one he’s watched (on TV!) often.

It’s weird to think that all of the people in the crowd, all of the people who’ll tune in tomorrow and watch this, will be in the same position Bucky has always been. Actually, if he thinks about it for too long, he might just throw up.

As they sit on the couch that’s replaced the single chair, Bucky pushes that out of his mind. He’ll only puke if he thinks about it too much. He’s fine, he reminds himself. Perfectly fine.

Ellen gives them both hugs before they sit down, and once they all do, immediately jumps into it. “Hi boys! This is your first interview together, isn’t it?”

As if she doesn’t already know that.

Steve smiles, glancing at the crowd every once in a while. To Ellen, he says, “Heh, yeah, it is. The past month has been...busy to say the least.”

“Yeah, you went to Peru. How are you feeling? Healed up?”

Steve looks at Bucky, now, his heart in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m feeling much better, all thanks to Bucky here.”

Ellen smirks at them, raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure.”

Bucky laughs, embarrassed beyond words, and says, “Not that hard to put a pillow under his leg.”

The crowd laughs back, pleased and charmed, and the cheers grow higher when Steve puts a hand on his thigh. “You did a lot more than that.”

“What else did he do?” Ellen asks, hamming up curiosity by leaning in.

Cheekily, Steve tells her and the audience, “He gave me hugs.”

Everyone awws. _Tumblr is gonna die_ , Bucky thinks, trying to smile at people. The lights are shining so bright he can't make any one out. Maybe he's smiling at the camera person, or the only empty seat, or something else dumb like that.

“How sweet,” Ellen says, letting the crowd go on for another couple of seconds. “So. Let’s talk about the two of you.”

“What do you want to know?” Steve asks, and it’s coy, like they have a fun little secret. Bucky’s sitting closer to the crowd than Steve, and he watches as several grown women, just in his sight, visibly swoon.

“Hmm,” Ellen leans back in the corner of her chair, hand on her chin. She gives them both a once over that leaves Bucky feeling exposed. “How’d you meet?”

Without thinking, Bucky answers. “On the subway, actually. I spilled my coffee on him, and he didn’t even get mad.” To Steve, he says, “I still can’t believe you flirted with me while wearing my coffee.”

Steve laughs, loud and only a little fake, and Bucky feels himself relaxing. Steve’s got this. He can make sure that Bucky gets it, too.

“It’s not every day I get to wear a stranger’s coffee, you know,” Steve quotes.

“How do you remember the exact words?”

Steve shrugs, and says very obviously for the audience’s benefit, “I don’t want to forget anything about us.”

Ellen watches them with soft eyes, eyes flicking back and forth as Bucky teases Steve about what a line that is and _you already have me, punk_ and _I know, jerk, but I just want you to know that’s where I’m at right now_. After a few more lines of banter (he and Steve are great at it), she cuts in.

“How’d you manage to hide it for so long? Three years,” she blows out a breath, “that’s a long time.”

Steve answers for them both, explaining how people don’t really look at him when he’s not in the suit and how most of their dates have been in the dark corner of this or that place, or at their apartments. Ellen asks about that, and Bucky says something about how they do live together in Brooklyn, since they were both born and raised there. The conversation moves on to Scout and the cats, and Bucky coos at a picture on the screen behind them embarrassingly. Eventually things come to an end, but Steve makes sure to thank all of his supporters. Bucky licks his lips and tries to find something smart to say. All he an think of is, “It really makes our days, reading your funny tweets.”

They stand, and Ellen has the audience clap for them as they say their goodbyes and walk off stage.

The second Bucky is sure they’re not on camera anymore, he turns to Steve and practically collapses into his arms.

“Oh my god, I sounded so dumb. I barely said anything. All I did was stare at you like a freak. I don’t wanna do this again, ever,” Bucky says into Steve’s chest, definitely not whining.

Steve pets his head, corralling him into their shared dressing room. “You did great, Buck. It was your first time on TV, no one can blame you for being nervous.”

“But they can make fun of me for looking like an idiot,” Bucky refutes, flopping onto the couch Ellen provided and trying desperately not to think about the field day half of Steve’s fucking fandom will have tomorrow.

“You don’t look like an idiot,” Steve tells him strongly, coming to sit next to him. “You look hot.”

“Like I was sweating?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “No, jerk. Like you’re good enough to eat.”

“Steve, it’s a family friendly show!” Bucky teases.

Cheeks pinking, Steve doesn’t dignify that with a response. He just presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Bucky settles his head against Steve’s shoulder, watching as the phone turns on and shows Steve’s lock screen. A picture of Bucky with Romeo and Juliet on each shoulder, Scout inbetween Bucky’s crouched legs.

He has several new texts from the other Avengers, but he doesn’t bother with them. He opens up the camera app, instead. Steve takes a picture of them smiling, then another of him kissing Bucky’s cheek.

When he posts it, with the caption, “Thanks for having us Ellen! Great to see you again”, it blows up immediately. Bucky’s tagged in the picture, and they watch as his follower count goes up and up and up.

* * *

## October 31st, 2014

Bucky’s the kind of guy who plans his Halloween costumes months in advance. No, not months — he’s on that shit every November 1st, a whole _year_ in advance. And with Steve, it’s easier than ever. He’s just as excited for the holiday as Bucky is, and doesn’t mind doing couples costumes.

The past three years they’ve been Batman and Robin, Disney princes, and a firefighter/police officer duo. But this year, they’re gonna have to go all out. Being a celebrity couple, or something close to it at least, means they have to look great.

Bucky can do that no problem.

Of course, his plan to be Mario and Luigi was a bust now that they were public. It has to be something better than that. Sexier, maybe. Not sexy enough that Peter shouldn't see them, but sexy enough to show off Steve’s build.

When he wasn’t working in the past five months, he was thinking about possible costumes. When he asked Steve about them, Steve would give his opinion. They decided against pirates, Pokemon, comic book characters, “sexy” nerds, and what feels like a million other things, before finally deciding on something.

The best part is that everyone in their lives has asked what they’re going as, and they’ve kept it a secret.

The big reveal is on Instagram, linked to Twitter. It’s a simple picture of Bucky and Steve, from behind, showing off their costumes.

Baseballers. It’s genius, really, Steve’s idea. His colors, white baseball pants, black belts, white shirts with blue shoulders and the words “Pitcher” and “Catcher” on the back. Red hats, black bill backwards. Black marks on their cheeks. The long socks and tennis shoes to go along. It’s all tight, not too tight they can’t move around in it, and it shows off their bodies well without baring any skin.

Bucky’s the pitcher, Steve the catcher.

In the picture, they stand side-by-side, and Bucky’s grabbing Steve’s ass. They’re kissing.

Later on, they’ll say it broke the internet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the episode of Bob's Burgers where Louise runs away from the Dentist was on while I was writing. If not, I would've had them be watching the Simpsons or something
> 
> When Bucky talks about "hiding behind his bisexuality", I was Really Hesitant to write that. _I'm_ bi and I hate that less accepting members of the LGBT community accuse bis of hiding behind it for any reason at all. I want to make it clear that, under DADT, Bucky _had_ to act straight. Was it easier for him since he feels opposite-sex attraction, and only had to hide part of himself? Absolutely. Should he be condemned for that? No.   
>  It's not fair that anyone had to hide any part of themselves under DADT irl.  
> To add to that, Bucky is not and has never used the label of bisexual as a stepping stone to or from het/gay. He is 100% bisexual.
> 
> Also, [here's that picture](https://78.media.tumblr.com/6f21394d93870f11ecea708080edec33/tumblr_opobniFGl21wnrrpro1_400.jpg).


	5. 2015 (I'll be there for you, I will care for you, I keep thanking you, just don't know)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo Peter is trans y'all, AFAB. _I_ am not trans, and neither is Cali, but Cali is genderqueer and they know more about it than me. Together we decided on a few ground things:  
>  1) Peter did not take puberty blockers. They were too expensive and also I have no idea when they were first invented? My research has turned up, like, nothing. At all. It's not even on the wiki.  
> 2) Peter knew he was trans before Richard and Mary Parker died. Of course, he didn't know a word for it, but he knew he wasn't a girl. In this au, his parents died in early 2007 and so he's been with May and Ben since he was 6 years old. All four of his parents/guardians knew, but Richard and Mary died before they could really look into it. If they'd lived, he would've ended up taking puberty blockers.  
> 3) Peter wears binders from [this site](https://i.lesloveboat.com/). The binders are relatively cheap, cheap enough for Peter, May, and Ben to afford.  
> 4) Because Tom Holland is only 5'8", and Peter is 14 in this chapter, he's done most of his growing. He had a big growth spurt when he was 12 or 13 and there's not much growing left for him. That means that I can link you to the binders he wears.  
> 5) [His regular binder](https://i.lesloveboat.com/products/high-strength-pullover-long-binder). He takes good care of this one.  
> 6) [His Spiderman binder](https://i.lesloveboat.com/products/antibacterial-pullover-short-chest-binder-1). Or at least one he uses when working out. It's antibacterial. Idrk what that means, we assumed it meant it could handle lots of sweat?? Idk.  
> 7) [This is the packer he uses](https://www.amazon.com/TOMAX-MASHO-FTM-Packer/dp/B00GEH3ULY/?tag=transguys-20). It's soft and small, so we thought it would be a good first packer. Also bc I'm only 17 I didn't feel like I was too young to look at it, so it should be good for him.
> 
> Also, I mention Bucky's Uncle Artie, and cousins Tate, Hunter, and Cindy, who were mentioned in the first chapter. They really don't have any importance, I just wanted to make sure that everyone remembered they're Bucky's family who he doesn't like.
> 
> Title from Take Care by Drake feat. Rihanna  
> BIG WARNING for Major Character Death!!! It happens in October and affects December!!!

## April 5th, 2015

May, Ben, and Peter are already there when Bucky, Steve, and all the pets drive into the driveway.

Everyone is outside on the front porch, and when they pull in, Peter jumps to his feet. He barely waits for Bucky to exit the car before running over. The rest of his family waits thankfully, though he feels their eyes on him as Peter nearly tackles him with a hug.

“Uncle Bucky!”

Bucky laughs and hugs his nephew, giving him a squeeze-hug. Peter squeezes back and immediately pulls away to stare at Steve.

Steve smiles a little shyly, waving. “Hey, Peter.”

Bucky rests his hand on Peter’s back, grinning at Steve. “It’s been four years. You ready to meet in person?”  
  
“Little too late for that,” Peter mutters, but starts off towards Steve either way. Steve watches him advance, and Bucky can’t help but laugh to himself the way they’re staring at each other. Peter stops about a foot in front of Steve, and appraises him.

Steve speaks first, reaching out for a handshaking and greeting, “It’s nice to meet you, Peter.”

Peter takes his hand, shaking up and down twice before pulling Steve down into a hug. Steve’s giant shoulders contrast with Peter’s normal-sized shoulders, as well as Steve’s awkward pats on Peter’s back.

Peter pulls away first, replying, “You have no idea how nice it is to meet _you_ , man.”

They share smiles that Bucky can only describe as cripplingly awkward. Steve tries to say, “How are you — I mean, uh, how’s it, um, been?”

Bucky crosses his arms and leans up against the car, sharing a glance with Grandma Becca. Steve tries too hard to relate to people, especially teenagers, who all generally love him. Peter certainly does.

His nephew smiles but doesn’t laugh, and says, “Well, I got to skip school, so that’s been awesome. And I got to see everyone. It’s crazy that every holiday I could spend here, you couldn’t.”

Steve shrugs, rubs the back of his neck. “I never meant for it go this long, just...work somehow always got in the way.”

They share a few more words about the eccentric schedule of the Avengers, before Bucky calls, “Let’s go in, boys. Food to eat and people to talk to, you know.”

Peter groans goodnaturedly while Steve just comes over to the car (borrowed from Grandma Becca, who rode with Ben, May, and Peter) and helps Bucky get Scout’s cage out of the back. Romeo and Juliet came along too, and Bucky brings their carrier inside.

Food isn’t ready yet, so everyone sits in the living room. Bucky and Steve sit side-by-side, the cats in their laps, and listen to Grandpa Jim tell a long story that Bucky is convinced is half lies. There’s no way Uncle Artie and his precious boys, Tate and Hunter were ever that nice. The only part of it that sounds true is the part with Cindy being kind. Bucky doesn’t call him on it.

At dinner, May and Ben pull Bucky and Laura into a conversation about Ben’s job (a special needs teacher) and what teenagers are like today. Peter doesn’t join the conversation, too busy talking to Steve. Bucky doesn’t listen in on it, though he hears bits and pieces — Steve’s telling stories of what life was like for LGBT people in the 1930s and 40s.

The day passes quickly like that, with Bucky spending more time with his sisters and brother in law than with his boyfriend and nephew. His parents and grandparents mostly spend time with Bucky and co than Steve and Peter. Bucky complains about it, because don’t they have embarrassing crushes on him? Don’t they want to pay attention to him?

Grandma Anne just laughs and tells him to let Peter geek out.

There’s no children in the family anymore, so there’s no egg hunt. Bucky sort of misses it, recalling the good old days of young Peter and Laura helping each other find the eggs Bucky loved to hide in the hardest to find places.

Steve goes to the bathroom eventually, and Bucky takes the chance to corner Peter in the kitchen. Mom smiles at them as she leaves them be.

“So? You like him?” Bucky asks.

Peter grins at him, nodding. “He’s really interesting. Have you heard the story about Cookie and the mob? Or the one about — “

“I meant, ‘s he bein’ nice? Awkward?”

“He’s always awkward, Bucky. But it’s fine, he’s fine.” Peter looks down at his hands. “I told him that I’m trans.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, well aware of how big of a thing that is. Peter usually doesn't come out when he first meets someone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter smiles. “He said I was brave, and thanked me for telling him. He was really nice about it, and he told me stories about his trans friends.”

Bucky can’t help himself — he has to hug Peter. Bucky hasn’t had many girlfriends or boyfriends that were ever introduced to Peter, and those that were never last long enough for Peter to get to know well. But that’s not the case with Steve, and it means so much to both of them. Peter accepts and settles into the hug easily, resting his forehead on Bucky’s chest.

“That’s great, Pete.”

Muffled, Peter says, “I know.”

They hug for a little while longer, long enough that Peter’s teenage brain eventually says it’s high past time to let go. A few more words are shared about Steve, and _how he’s really cute Bucky, are you gonna put a ring on that anytime soon?_ , before Laura pulls Peter away to defend Gen Z against the other generations present.

Steve finds Bucky still in the kitchen, listening in on May and Ben tell Mom and Dad all the ways the Baby Boomers really _have_ ruined the economy.

Bucky’s already up against one of the counters, sipping on a cup of wine, but Steve pushes him so his hips are flatter, his legs open a little wider. Steve occupies the space suddenly made for him, arms wrapping around Bucky loosely, an indulgent smile on his face as he kisses the underside of Bucky’s jaw.

It won’t go anywhere with Bucky’s family right there in the next room, but it’s still nice.

Bucky says, just to make sure it really won’t advance, “I’m really glad you and Peter are getting along…he doesn’t have a lotta friends, you know.”

“There’s time for that. He’s only fourteen,” Steve replies, “Anyway, he’s easy to get along with.”

“I was implying that I’m happy you’re not being a dick about him being trans.”

Steve laughs, pulling away a little. The lighting isn’t great in the kitchen, but he’s still prettier than any Instagrammer (and Bucky would certainly know, considering how many Laura has shown him pictures of). “Buck, if I was a dick about that, then I’d be a dick about everything. The LGBT scene was a lot bigger than people think it was. I had neighbors like Peter — it wasn’t, and continues to not be, a big deal.”

Bucky reaches up to cradle, or really, _pet_ the back of Steve’s head. “Good. I’m glad you’re not an asshole. Oh, by the way, Peter liked your story about Cookie.”

Steve goes to respond (and Bucky can imagine what he’d say; “Everyone likes that story”), but May calls from the other room, “Bucky! Get in here! We need another millennial!”

“They’re arguing about the generations,” Bucky explains as he and Steve exit the kitchen. “I don’t think they’re ready for you, Greatest Generation.”

* * *

## October 20th, 2015

The phone ringing is what wakes Bucky up. He groans, scooting to the edge of the bed as best as he can while keeping his chest flat to the mattress. Not bothering to pick up his head, he pats the bedside table until his hand lands on his phone. It has to be unplugged before it can make it all the way to his face, so he just tugs on it — he can worry about breaking it later.

It’s buzzing, _blaring_ annoyingly, and it takes him three tries to answer the call. He doesn’t bother to see who it is first, or greet the mystery person once it’s to his ear; he just mumbles, “What.”

“Bucky?” May asks, voice soft and trembling.

Bucky’s awake instantly. He’s heard this tone before, from her and others, and it never means anything good. He rolls over onto his back and sits up quickly, saying, “May? What’s wrong?”

Beside him, Steve blinks his eyes open, already alert. A glance at their digital clock says it’s just past two in the morning.

She gasps, and it’s cracked down the middle by a hitch in her breath that quickly devolves into a sob. “Ben — Ben’s _dead_.”

_Bucky, honey, Grandpa’s dead._

_Barnes! Martinez is down, Martinez is down!_

_Everyone, I’m sorry to say that Lauren did not make it._

Bucky doesn't remember what he says back to her, only that she begged him to come over. He doesn’t remember telling Steve anything, just jumping out of bed in his boxers and some minutes later, being in a taxi, fully dressed. Flashes of Steve’s hands guiding him, and the hallway outside of May and Ben’s place. The door opens, and there are police officers there, talking to Peter.

And Jesus, Peter.

The thought barely pierces Bucky’s numb fog before May’s there, wrapping thin arms tightly around him. He hugs back, immediately holding on just as tight. Steve, face pinched from what Bucky can see of it, herds them to the couch, where they sit scrunched up close.

May sobs and sobs. Bucky doesn’t cry, only because it doesn’t feel real — they’d just talked earlier. Not even _hours_ ago, they talked, and now Ben’s dead. He also doesn’t try to hush May, just listens to her gasp out words that make her cry more.

What he gleans is that Ben was shot about an hour and a half ago. Peter saw. Ben’s body is still at the hospital, where he was declared dead.

After an eternity, the police officers leave Peter, who, Bucky notices, is shivering. At least Steve is there by his side, even though Bucky wants Steve to come hold _him_ , instead.

It’s something of a blur, but Bucky recalls that they tell May and Bucky the full story — Peter and Ben had argued about Peter’s grades (apparently, clubs are taking away from homework time); Peter went out even though he wasn’t allowed to, but had the good sense to only go a few blocks to a convenience store; Ben followed Peter into the store and offered to pay for the candy bar Peter was about to purchase; another man was in line ahead of them, and he tried to rob the store; Ben attempted to stop him; Ben was shot. The man fled and Peter was left there, holding Ben’s stomach in, screaming for someone to call for an ambulance.

It’s horrible and awful and Bucky has never been so upset in his entire life. Nothing compares to this feeling.

After the police leave, saying things can wait to happen until tomorrow, Bucky spends half an hour in front of the toilet, nausea curling in his stomach.

Steve and Bucky stay all night, and the sunrise is spent telling Peter it’s not his fault. Peter’s inconsolable, even more so than May. He cries into a pillow and refuses to let them touch him and says, repeatedly, that it’s _his fault_. Steve’s the only one he eventually listens to, and only because Steve tells him about Yankee Jim.

“Yankee Jim died when he fell off a train in the alps. He was only on the train because of me, you know — he said he didn’t feel right about the mission but he still went out and did it. He knew I needed him by my side, you know? And then he fell off.” Steve looks unbearably sad, in that World-War-Two-vet way of his. Peter, sensitive as ever to the feelings of others, watches with horror and empathy. “I thought it was my fault. Sometimes I still do. But Peggy Carter, she told me I had to respect that it was Yankee Jim’s choice to go on that train with me. She said, ‘allow him the dignity of his choice’.”

“You think I should respect that Ben wanted to follow me and get killed?” Peter asks, glancing at Bucky and May. May’s still crying, but it’s more like weeping now than sobbing. Her eyes are puffy; Bucky’s don’t feel much better.

Steve sighs through his nose. “I think you should respect that it was Ben’s choice. He chose to follow you, and he chose to confront the robber.”

“So you’re _blaming_ him for dying?” Peter demands, eyes immediately sheening over with tears. He hides his face again, shaking his head. “You’re wrong, you’re wrong,” Bucky hears, muffled.

Steve jerks back, shock on his face. Eyes widened, he glances at Bucky. Bucky can barely react before Steve looks back at Peter. He tries to apologize, saying, “Peter — “

A little calmer now that the storm of emotions has passed, Bucky lets his inner Sergeant take over, unfortunately interrupting Steve. “May, Peter, go lie down. It’s been a long night. Steve and I will...call Ma.”

The thought is horrifying. One of them really should’ve called already, but only Steve has been calm enough for long enough to do it, and he’s been comforting them. Plus, they should hear it from family, and Steve’s not quite at this level yet. Bucky hopes he never has to be.

May bites the inside of her cheek, clearly not wanting to call, either. She throws herself into Bucky’s arms one last time for the night (or morning, whatever), and thanks him before taking Peter to her and Ben’s room.

Bucky wastes no time in flopping on the couch. Steve sits next to him, rubbing the back of his neck and shoulders. They sit there for a while, listening to muffled noises come from the bedroom — talking and crying. Bucky can’t even imagine how awful it must feel to see Ben in there but not have him.

The realization that Bucky will never see Ben again has hit him hard, several times in the past hours. He chokes on it for a long moment, before shaking his head and reaching for his phone.

Except his pockets are empty.

Before he can even ask, Steve hands Bucky his phone. “I didn’t even think to bring yours,” Steve adds, a touch apologetically.

Bucky shrugs it off. “S’okay.”

Ma is under Angela Barnes. Bucky clicks the call button.

It’s almost 7:45 — Ma might not be up yet. He hates to ruin her day, but she has to know.

Two rings later, she picks up, asking, “Steve?”

Bucky clears his throat. “No, Ma, it’s me, Bucky. I, um, I have some bad news. You gotta sit down, okay?”

Anxiety in her voice, she replies, “I am, honey, I’m still in bed. What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

There’s suddenly a lump in Bucky’s throat, and it’s the size of a barge. “Um. I don’t know how to tell you this gently, so I’m just gonna do it. Ben, uh, Ben died last night.”

It only takes a second for the news to settle in, and then Ma asks, “What?”

 _O_ _h_ _god_ , Bucky thinks, stomach and possibly brain lurching. “Ben’s dead, Ma.”

There’s a high whistling sound on the other end. “No. No, stop it, James. _Stop_.”

“Ma. Listen, okay? It happened last night, at, like, two. He was shot, and,” his voice cracks, tears heating his eyes all over again, “and Peter saw.”

“Oh my god, Peter. Oh, how is he? How’s May? What’s happening right now?”

“He’s...I don’t know, Ma. They’re heartbroken. We all are.” Even Steve, who’d come to be friends with Bucky’s brother-in-law. As for Peter and May...Bucky doesn’t know how they’ll recover. He doesn’t even want to think about how he’s feeling. “They just went to bed, and me and Steve are on the couch.”

“So you’re with them?” She asks, and he hears her mutter something like, “They need me.”

“Yeah. Have been all night.” He sniffles, sighs. “I don’t...I don’t think I can be the one to tell Dad and Laura. Or Grandma. I know I shouldn’t ask you to do it, but I just…,” he trails off. Steve moves in closer, offering silent comfort. He clears his throat. “Ma?”

He doesn’t know what to ask her, or even why he said that. Maybe he just wants to hear her voice.

“Yes honey?”

He looks up to the ceiling, blinking. “We all need you here.”

“As soon as I wake up your father and sister, we’ll be there. If May wakes up before we make it,” she inhales and it’s shaky; Bucky feels, abruptly, like he’s been scooped out like an avocado, “please let her know I love her and will stay as long as I need to.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, breath hitching again. Jesus, this is awful, he thinks, for maybe the fiftieth time that day. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m going to wake them up, now, okay? Call me if you need me, James. For any reason.”

“Yes, Ma,” he says, and he doesn’t laugh it off like he might’ve any other day.

**[...]**

Ma, Dad, and Laura get there within a few hours. When they arrive, Peter has fallen into a restless sleep. They don’t wake him up. May takes the opportunity to break out the alcohol, which Bucky accepts a cup of.

They all sit around the living room, May and Mom and Dad on the couch while Steve, Bucky and Laura sit on the floor. Mom asks a few questions, ones May doesn’t have the answers to yet — are they going to have a funeral? Can they afford that? What about his headstone? What are we going to do about his will?

Bucky says, “ _Mom_ ,” and tries not to sound severe. It’s hard, though. Her questions are probably better left to another day, when it feels more real. When it’s not so fresh.

She gives him a look that clearly says _watch your tone_ , but relents.

For a long time, none of them say anything.

Laura’s barefaced, stays off her phone. She looks at the ceiling and taps her fingers and toes and every once in a while, she sniffles. May, an eternal daddy’s girl, is curled into Dad’s side. Bucky doesn’t know if she’s crying or not; shuddery breaths that sound a lot like Steve’s when he wakes up from nightmares about the war are coming from that direction.

Bucky…. Bucky’s sitting next to Steve, but all that’s touching are their legs. It doesn’t feel right, hugging up and loving on Steve. Even if it’s just for comfort. He knows May would want him to draw comfort from his boyfriend but nauseating guilt pierces through Bucky when he even thinks about it. Steve, thankfully, seems to understand.

From where Bucky’s sitting up against the coffee table (not very comfortable, but there’s a pillow behind his back to soften the hard edge), he can see that his parents’ faces are pale, and all their attention stays on May. It used to piss Bucky off terribly how much attention the girls got, but now all he feels is horrible numbness.

Eventually, Peter comes out. He’s still in his clothes from last night, the ones he changed into after the police escorted him home — one of Bucky’s old ARMY t-shirts and Homer Simpson pajama pants. He blinks when he sees them all there, and heads right for the couch. Ma scoots over so he can he sit between her and May.

“Hey,” he mumbles, and they say hi back, and that’s about all that any of them say for another while. May sits up enough to let Peter curl into her side. It’s a veritable cuddle pile. Bucky closes his eyes so he can’t see and be jealous of them.

Time passes and Bucky’s thoughts circle back and forth.

Then — “Is that a spider?” Laura asks, panic edging her voice.

Bucky opens his eyes, sitting up straight and looking to the corner where Laura’s eyes are focused on. Steve sits up, too, the pillow falling, and Bucky can’t help but be a little distracted by the way he looks. His hair is flopped forward over his forehead, and the bags under his eyes are noticeable.

Spider, Bucky reminds himself. When he looks again, he sees it — small compared to the things around it, medium sized compared to other spiders. The ones Bucky saw overseas must’ve been exponentially bigger — he gets up on his knees (and it hurts; he thinks he’s getting old but he’s only thirty one) and says, “I’ll kill it.”

No one says anything for a long two seconds before May shouts, “Don’t!”

Bucky stills, all breath leaving him.

Laura asks, demands really, “What? May, let him smash it. It’s gross.”

May rolls her eyes. She’s always been less disgusted by bugs and worms and pests of all kinds. “It’s not hurting anyone. Just...put it outside. Ben always put them outside,” and her voice heats up, cracks as she thinks again about Ben. “He told me they have families to get back to. If we smashed them, their families would never know what happened.”

That sounds like Ben. Kind-hearted and hiding it with a joke. He _loved_ bugs.

Heart in his throat, Bucky manages to get the spider out the window without smashing it.

He sits back by Steve, but a little closer, the pillow somehow made softer by their closeness. Or maybe he’s imagining that. Their bodies press together, Steve setting his leg over Bucky’s, ankle to ankle. When he looks at Steve, the corner of Steve’s mouth quirks up. Bucky doesn’t relax, per se, but he does loosen. It’s nice that there’s something familiar (and good) on this awful day.

They spend the next hour talking about Ben.

He loved bugs but hated worms. Supposedly he ate one when he was a kid and it didn’t die immediately, so he could feel it moving in his throat. Also why he hated seafood. They all take a moment to look sick before moving on.

He slept in boxers and socks, and nothing else, not even when there was snow piled high outside.

Sometimes, he’d forgo homework and give his students fun surveys instead. Apparently, it’s a lot easier to grade for completion points.

He’d only eat chocolate if it was dipped. Or weird. He loved chocolate covered potato chips and bacon and all manners of foodstuffs that shouldn’t be paired with chocolate.

Those dumb quotes about teachers — the ones that are true but so cheesy, it’s ridiculous — always made him laugh.

There are more things, so many more. Some of the things, like his propensity to wear themed socks and embarrass Peter with them, makes Bucky laugh. Other things, like how he pulled out all the stops on his and May’s first date, make him cry.

Of course, all the remincising stops when May suddenly sits up, pale white.

“Jesus, what is it?” He demands immediately, sitting up himself. The pillow sags on his side, held up by Steve.

“I forgot to call his parents!” She wails.

**[...]**

They go home eventually.

It’s late at night when they leave, creeping past eleven o’clock. They walk instead of taking a cab or the subway, trying to clear their heads. Also, considering what they’ve been doing today, they sorta stink. Bucky can’t wait to get out of these clothes.

When they finally open the door, all three pets invade their space and make all sorts of noises. The litter box stinks, but at least Scout hasn’t made a mess — Steve left long enough earlier to feed all of them, and take Scout out. None of the animals seem worried about that though; Juliet climbs up Bucky’s leg, while Romeo curls his tail around the other and puts his front paws as high up as he can. Scout sniffs at Steve so aggressively, Steve has to take a step back.

“We’re okay,” Steve tells them, scratching under Scout’s chin.

Romeo meows at him indignantly. Once they move more into the apartment and feed the pets, Romeo’s meow is much nicer.

Steve ushers him out of the kitchen, cradling his bicep just outside the doorway to it. Bucky sorta feels like none of this is real, but Steve, touching him and taking care of their fur babies and looking at him so kind and gentle, definitely _is_. “Wanna shower before bed?”

“Does...doesn’t Scout need to go out again?”

“Yeah. But I can worry about that. You just worry about you, okay, sweetheart?”

“No,” Bucky says, does not whine, wrapping Steve up into a hug. He knows better than to not let Scout out, he _does_ , but he just wants Steve to stay here with him and hold him and not let go. Steve pulls him close, pressing their hips together. It’s not sexual at all. It just makes Bucky feel a little better.

They hug for a while, until Bucky feels okay enough to let Steve go.

When he pulls back, he rubs at his face (his eyes are wet again, goddamnit). “I’m — I’m gonna take that shower, okay? You take Scout out. I’ll be fine. Just...don’t take too long.”

Steve nods, kissing him for a few short seconds. “Okay, Buck. I’ll be back as soon as Scout’ll let me be back.”

It takes Steve twenty minutes to get Scout out the door, potty’ed, and back in. In that time, Bucky’s puttered around the apartment, sort of cleaning. Pushing things around and looking at things that need to be thrown out counts, right?  
  
Steve smiles when he sees him. It’s thin but happy enough, and Bucky falls into his embrace again easily.

“Let’s shower, then bed,” Bucky decides against Steve’s neck. His eyes slip closed, and he nuzzles in closer as Steve agrees, lifting him off his feet. His legs wrap around Steve’s waist, grip tight.

They move through a shower, Steve washing his hair and then Bucky’s, giving him a nice head massage. They cuddle all the way through, because letting go of Steve suddenly seems like the dumbest thing Bucky could ever do. Steve lets him, just caresses him and kisses him and helps him.

Soon enough, they’re in bed, Bucky still wrapped around Steve like an octopus.

“It doesn’t seem real,” he whispers. He feels numb, really.

Steve pets his hair again. “That’ll go away soon. Then you’ll just be depressed.”

Bucky sighs, hiding his face in Steve’s chest. “Fuck.”

“You’ll be okay, though, Bucky. I’m sure of it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, Buck, I just know you will.”

Bucky doesn’t know if he believes it or not. He wants to, desperately, but it’s only the first day of many. He shouldn’t think about this so soon. Still, the assurance, the belief Steve has in him, it’s… something like helpful. As helpful as it can be, really.

He hugs Steve a little tighter. He should thank Steve, for being here, for loving him, for being alive…. Just, not tonight. Not tonight.

* * *

## December 15th, 2015

It’s a subdued affair.

When Laura crosses the stage and accepts her diploma, they make a lotta noise. It’s embarrassing, really, but Laura deserves the pride of her family and the awful embarrassment. She goes near the beginning, since their last name starts with a B.

The people around them look annoyed but Bucky doesn’t care. He just whoops his heart out with Peter next to him doing the same and laughs when he sees Laura’s cheeks pink. Steve chuckles alongside him.

Once she’s off the stage, they calm back down. It’s another long-ass hour and a half before it’s all over and they can see Laura up close.

There’s a jumble of people all on the basketball court the graduation was held on, family and students. Honestly, there aren’t many students graduating a semester early but there are enough that Steve has to part the crowd with his shoulders, Bucky and the others standing in a single file line close behind, for them to get to Laura.

Her eyes widen when she sees them, as well as her friends’, who stare at Steve incredulously.

One of them , Chrissy maybe?, says, “Oh my god.” Her gaze falls from Steve’s face to his shoulders, chest, waist, down his legs to his feet and then back up. Steve, though he’s gotten used to this in the past four years, is far from used to this obvious of attention from a teenager he’s heard gossip about. He blushes and shuffles back half a step, right into Bucky.

Bucky holds on to his bicep as he steps around Steve, utterly unconcerned with Laura’s friends — or trying to be, at least. He gives Laura a significant look, and she glances at possibly-Chrissy.

“Chrissy,” she says, and yup, Bucky’s right again, “Stop staring. Trust me, he’s hot, but he’s a giant nerd.”

“Also desperately in love with me,” Bucky adds with a chuckle. Steve flushes on the apples of his cheeks, glancing at and quickly away from the girls. Bucky slides his hand to Steve’s back, saying to Laura, “Anyway, c’mere, kid, we want a celebratory hug.”

Laura steps forward, arms coming up and shifting her graduation gown on her shoulders. It flutters around her legs, and somehow the sight of it makes Bucky even more proud of her — she’s  _ graduating _ . His baby sister is growing up.

He pulls her into his arms and squeezes tight, whispering in her ear, “Good job, Laure.”

Her arms around his neck, she says, “Thanks.”

Steve steps up for a hug next, also whispering something to Laura that makes her smile. After that,  everyone has to hug her. She laughs and allows it; the hugs with May and Peter end up being tearful. 

“Ben would’ve been so proud of you,” May tells her, and then they share a group hug with Peter. Peter’ll graduate without Ben there, too. It’s a good thing Laura and Peter are similar in age — they have someone to talk to about these things.

Laura’s friends — Chrissy, Riley, and Jayne — very obviously ask for hugs. Bucky’s known them for a while, or at least heard about them, and he sees right through them. Somehow their hugs with Steve are the longest.  _ Somehow _ , he thinks again, rolling his eyes.

There’s a lot of talking to do, apparently. Eventually they manage to escape the crowded hall into the cold air of New Haven, Connecticut in December and argue briefly about where to eat. Laura quickly shuts them up about the choices, saying, “It’s my night, I get to pick where we eat!”

Bucky just laughs as Peter and Mom complain.

They end up going to Olive Garden, because Laura is only 17 still and she’s basic. That’s what Jayne said before she went off to her family, at least. Bucky’s not hip with the kids anymore. It doesn’t really matter, anyway — he’s just ready to eat the breadsticks.

They all get a glass of champagne once seated, except Laura and Peter, and have a toast.

“To Laura, our youngest daughter who’ll be going to NYU and becoming…something next year,” Dad says, getting a laugh out of them all.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Laura defends.

May says, “Don’t feel bad, Bucky went right into the army when he was your age.

Bucky rolls his eyes as the rest of them laugh. Steve bumps their shoulders together, but says to Laura, “You’ll get there, Laura. Look at your brother.”

“Why are you all picking on me?” Bucky complains, smiling wide enough it hurts.

Dad clears his throat, drink still up. “Can we finish this toast?”

That  _ really  _ gets a laugh out of them. Peter snorts his Mountain Dew out of his nose, which only exacerbates the problem. The people around them don’t seem to know whether to laugh along or get angry at the disturbance.

It takes a few minutes, but they get to finishing the toast. Laura suggests a toast to Ben, who had been looking forward to cheering loud enough that someone threw something at him. May does the honors.

Yeah, it’s a subdued affair — at times. They’re healing, though, and that’s what matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote about Ben dying while reading about the victims and survivors of the Parkland/Marjory Stoneman Douglas HS shooting. I actually wrote it over several days (this shit was hard), and on the first day I didn't cry at all, but the next, going into writing having just listened to [Emma Gonzalez's speech](https://www.cnn.com/videos/us/2018/02/17/parkland-florida-student-emma-gonzalez-anti-gun-rally-fort-lauderdale-full.cnn), I was a blubbering mess. Also I ranted to my beta, Cali, and told them I will not be fucking killed at school. So. Yeah. #NeverAgain  
> Also, when my grandpa died, I remember that my mom cried for hours. It happened in June and it's still affecting her and my grandma awfully.  
> Ummmm idk how to end this lol. This is probably (definitely?) the saddest chapter. There will be more sads in the future.


	6. 2016 (give me a run for my money there is nobody, no one to outrun me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from LOVE. by Kendrick Lamar feat. Zacari
> 
> Check out the banner on the first chapter, and also the art at the end of this chapter! Thank you so much Ryan for the art!!!!
> 
> A quick note -- Tony is not portrayed in the best way in this chapter. Personally I don't really like him but he's been portrayed with fanon characterization up to this point. I think his actions in Civil War and Homecoming concerning Peter were, to put it simply, illegal and overstepping of his bounds. He kidnapped Peter and then later became a dad figure Peter did not need from him, or even ask for. Peter _wanted_ it but only because Tony manipulated his status as one of Peter's idols and deliberately kept information from Peter so he'd be on Tony's side. Watching Tony berate Peter in Homecoming literally makes me feel sick. I felt so bad for Peter because he's really, to quote Black Panther, a monster of Tony's own making (in some ways) and Tony yelling at him is just...so bad for Peter. And seeing him cry??? I wanted to jump into the movie and tell Tony he has no jurisdiction over Peter and shouldn't be the one going around YELLING at him when he's the one who encouraged the behavior in the first place!!  
>  TL;DR: Tony's a dick in CW and SMH so he's a dick in this chapter too.
> 
> Get ready for some feels y'all

## May 14th, 2016

Steve isn’t in bed next to Bucky when he wakes up. Bucky knew he wouldn’t be, but it’s still upsetting.

He showers and changes, noticing how weird it feels to wake up without Steve as he feeds the pets. He manages to work on work for his online classes and some of his actual work before May calls.

He leans back in his chair, groaning. “‘Sup, May?”

She sighs as soon as she hears his voice. “Are you busy right now?”

A quick look at his desk posits that yes, he’s busy. But he can never say no to her. “Not really. Is something happening?”

“I don’t know, that’s the issue.”

“Oh boy,” he groans, dragging it out. “Start from the top.”

She sighs, audibly biting her nails. It’s only started since Ben died. “Well. Let’s see. Actually, let me ask you something.”

“Alright.”

“Has Peter been acting weird lately?”

“More than any other grieving, angsty teenager? I don’t really know. I haven’t seen him in a while, just talked.”

“He’s been acting weird lately,” she tells him, matter of fact. “Ever since he went to that Oscorp place in Manhattan, he’s been hiding things from me. Is it… is it because he’s grieving still? Could it be drugs? Did I miss something? He doesn't talk to me as much as he used to, he hasn’t been talking to anyone, apparently. Has he been talking to Laura or Ned, do you think? Does this make me a bad parent? Should I call his school counselor? Oh, god, Bucky, do I have to become that mom? I’m not supposed to be his mom!”

She’s almost hyperventilating by the end of the rant, voice cracking.

“May, May, calm down. Calm down. I'm sure it's fine. We didn't tell Ma and Dad everything when we were teenagers either, and we turned out okay." Well, okay as much as they could be. When you see something like 9/11 as a teenager, it fucks you up. And for Peter, he saw his uncle die. Bucky runs his hand through his hair, sighing. “Why don’t I talk to him? I’ll pick him up from school, give you a break.”

She groans loudly. “You shouldn’t have to do that, Buck.”

“I’m his uncle,” he says, looking around his room. “I want to do this, okay?”

It takes her a minute to agree, but she eventually does. And then adds, “Also, I never told Mom anything because I was always doing shit that would make her mad.”

They both laugh, remembering those days. Bucky can only hope Peter’s not doing anything on that level.

**[...]**

Peter responds to Bucky’s text that he’s getting picked up with what Bucky can only describe as great reluctance. He tries to mask it but Bucky can sniff it out easily.

Bucky’s waiting there when the bell rings, in a car he borrowed from Tony, who has enough cars to just loan them off. Bucky had entertained ideas about Peter being impressed by it, but instead he’s just embarrassed. He glances both ways, hunching his shoulders, and slides into the passenger seat.

“Hey, man,” Bucky greets.

“Hey.” He keeps his backpack in his lap and doesn’t get strapped in. Bucky waits, raising an eyebrow and looking down at his own seatbelt when Peter inevitably glances over to see why they’re not moving. He groans low in his throat but still pulls the seatbelt across his chest and clicks it into place.

Bucky pulls out of the space then, trying to think of the longest way to their apartment. He could loop around --

“I didn't need a ride, you know,” Peter says. He sounds anxious, a thready quality to his voice that he tries to mask by clearing his throat. Bucky looks over before they turn out of the lot, and sure enough, he’s gripping his bag like it’ll shield him for the monsters he’s always sworn were in his closet. His foot is tapping and he’s staring straight ahead. Bucky stiffens in response; whatever’s going on, it’s gonna be a big deal. “I’m old enough to take the subway.”

“Am I not allowed to want to see you for once? Been too busy for Uncle Buck, huh?”

“I’m taking advanced classes, I don’t really have time for anything but homework,” Peter chuckles.

May’s apparently gotten a call from Peter’s counselor about his dropping grades. They’d said it was concerning -- to go from AB Honor Roll to mid-to-low Bs/High Cs usually indicated something was wrong at home. _Self righteous dickhead thinks I’m abusing him or something_ , May had said.

“May told me you quit the band. Is the homework really that bad?” He asks, going along with it. He knows Peter hasn’t been doing his homework, or if he has, he’s been doing a shit job at it.

Peter groans, forehead dropping onto his bag. “Yes, it’s awful. I start as soon as I get home and do it all night.”

“Anything I can help with?” Bucky asks, taking a turn that won’t lead right to the Parker’s place.

Peter glances over, brows furrowing. “Nah. Mostly science, and if it’s over my head, it’s gonna be over yours.”

“Hey,” Bucky complains immediately, reaching over with one hand to pretend-punch Peter’s shoulder. “I’ll have you know I was great at science. What is it? Bonds? Cells? Energy?”

Peter hems and haws for a moment before relenting, telling Bucky exactly what they’re learning with lots of asides about how boring the teacher is and seeming every thought Ned has had and shared about it all. It _is_ over Bucky’s head, but that seems to make Peter happy.

Bucky drives them around Jamaica and back North, and the conversation pauses.

“So,” he says after a while, “what’ve you been up to other than school lately?”

“Uh, actually,” Peter half-laughs, excitement written on his face, “I think I might get a Stark internship soon. It’s all on my own merit, but they usually go for older kids. You gotta put in a certain amount of hours before you can really get it, so I’ve been focusing on that, too.”

“Sounds like a lot for a kid.”

“I’m not a kid!”

“Okay, okay, calm down. I meant a teenager, you know that.”

“Okay well, I’m not a kid.”

“I would’ve never guessed,” Bucky sasses, pointedly glancing at Peter’s crossed arms and pout. Peter rolls his eyes and drops the position, looking out the window and sulking instead. “I was just saying, you have a lot on your plate.”

“Yeah, I know. I haven’t been getting a lotta sleep lately.”

“Are you eating breakfast at least?”

“...Sometimes,” Peter says, and it’s not what Bucky wants to hear but he’ll just have to take it.

**[...]**

Bucky doesn’t get anything more out of Peter before they get back. Peter, too smart for his own damn good, edges around whatever it is he’s not telling May. Bucky asks if he’s got his eye on anyone, and Peter admits that there’s this girl, Liz, who’s a senior and so out of his league it’s not even funny. He would try to do something about it, like ask her out, but this Stark internship just takes up way too much of his time. Bucky doesn’t say anything about how he thinks Peter might be using it as an excuse to not go for it.

He does have plans to tell May, but when they walk inside, it’s to find that May is occupied. By Bucky’s boss, who has no business being here.

“Bucky!” He calls, looking over the couch at them. “You didn’t tell me your sister is so hot.”

And then he laughs like _haha what a funny joke I’ve just made_.

Bucky narrows his eyes, crosses his arms. Peter, next to him, gapes and shuffles back. “Why would I tell you that,” he gruffs.

“Uh, because I’m the best boss you’ve ever had? I don’t even yell at you and call you a lady.” Tony waves his hand and stands up, May moving with him. She’s staring, seemingly in awe, but Bucky knows she’s not over Ben yet. Tony might see that look as attraction, but it’s not. “Anyway, I’m here for Peter, actually. About the internship.”

“Right. Aren’t you supposed to be in Vienna right now, though? Working together and fighting the Accords?”

“They’re fine without me,” Tony says. He moves around the couch and claps a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Gonna talk to him now, if that’s alright.”

Peter nods exuberantly. “Yeah that’s alright!”

“Great! It’s kinda top secret stuff, you’ll find out about it soon Buck, so is there anywhere private we could go?”

“My room?”

“Alright, let’s go then.”

And then they’re going to Peter’s room. As soon as they’re out of earshot, Bucky hisses to May, “When did he get here?”

“Like, five minutes before Peter usually gets home from school.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shit. Okay. Great.”

“If it’s just about the internship, it should be fine,” May tells him, but it’s sort of hard to believe her. Tony shouldn’t be here, is the thing, and with Peter’s secrets and now him talking privately with Tony? It feels...wrong.

For ten minutes, which Bucky spends sitting next to May staring at the TV which is on but muted, it continues to feel wrong. Eventually, Bucky can’t stand hearing their voices anymore, and gets up off the couch, marching to Peter’s room. He knocks, non-aggressively because he’s not an asshole, and calls, “You guys done in there?”

It takes a moment for one of them to open the door, and in that moment, Bucky hears hushed whispers and the rustle of...something. Peter is the one to open the door, and he’s flushed high in his cheeks, embarrassed. “Hey, Buck. Yeah, we’re almost done. Just gonna…. Uh.”

“I’m gonna take him to the Tower so we can talk about some internship things more in detail, you know how it is. Gotta get him security clearance and everything.” Tony says over Peter’s shoulder, much to Peter’s visible relief.

“He should already have it,” Bucky responds. “Interns get that on their first day. Peter’s been working for you for a while.”

“Uh….”

“Tony, what the hell’s going on?” Bucky demands when it’s clear Tony doesn’t have another lie to tell.

Tony licks his lips and quirks a smile. “Heh, well, I kind of need him to come with me to Vienna to be a witness for us heroes. You know, make us sound good? No kid in Germany -- “

“-- Austria -- “

“ -- has ever lived through an alien invasion up close like Peter here has, so I thought -- “

“That you’d kidnap him off to Austria without even asking his guardian? Are you insane?”

“In my defense, we’ve talked about this before. Peter’s been wanting to go.”

“In case you somehow forgot, Peter is fifteen and can’t make this decision for himself,” Bucky says with a sharp look at Peter, who’s pale. _Shit_ , Bucky thinks. “Peter, you wanna go ask May if you’re allowed to leave the country?”

Peter sighs heavily and rolls his eyes, but moves past Bucky to the living room.

Once they can’t see Peter, Bucky pushes forward, forcing Tony further into the room. He stabs a finger into Tony’s chest, just below the reactor. He doesn’t care that this is his boss, his _friend_. “Don’t ever fucking pull this shit again, Tony. I have no idea what the fuck you’re thinking, trying to fucking smuggle a kid out of the country, but I don’t care. You’ll be lucky if May even lets him keep the internship at all because of this.”

Tony, his hands up in the sign of innocence, smirks. “Peter’s a smart kid, Bucky. He’ll do whatever he wants.”

“When he’s eighteen, sure, but until then, it’s not in his hands. Now, we’re gonna go out there, May’s gonna tell you fuck no, and you’re gonna leave and not come back.”

“You can’t tell me what to do. _I’m_ not a kid.”

“No, but I am one of your best employees and if you pull this shit ever again, I’ll quit. You got that?”

Tony glares, but nods. Bucky lets up, and they go out to the living room like nothing happened. May is appropriately angry and tells Tony, “Get the fuck out of my apartment,” and Peter gets grounded for a day for even entertaining the idea. Then she asks them both what it means that her nephew, the boy she’s raised since he was six, thinks he’s allowed to go to fucking Austria with a stranger.

She throws up her hands in the air and storms to her room, not bothering to wait for a response.

Bucky, after a long moment, asks, “What the fuck, Peter?”

Peter sighs through his nose, clenching and unclenching his fist. He whirls around, and he’s glaring at Bucky like Bucky’s the one who just tried to kidnap him. “You’re not my Dad, you’re not Uncle Ben, so stop bossing me around! I’m so tired of you acting like you can tell me what to do!”

And then, not even pausing to see Bucky’s reaction (it hurts, by the way. It really fucking hurts), he mimicks May and storms off to his room.

Bucky rubs at his face, pressing his fingers into his skin, and stands there for a long, long few minutes. Then he stares at Ben’s armchair which has been unused since that day and carefully doesn’t think about anything before leaving.

* * *

## July 4th, 2016

Bucky gives Steve a very happy wake up call.

It’s a normal day otherwise, or so Steve thinks, and afterwards, they take care of the pets (Scout gets a treat for waiting his turn to be fed) and eat breakfast together. Bucky makes them play footsie under the table, and only whines a little bit when Steve has to go to the Tower for work. Bucky could come with, but he’d had a meeting early yesterday morning and didn’t want to make the trip again.

Steve kisses him goodbye after getting dressed. Bucky doesn’t deepen it, though he wants to, and lets him go. They share “love you”’s, and Bucky’s heart clenches with how happy he is.

He waits for ten minutes before doing anything else. He doesn’t want Steve to hear.

Scout stands at the same time as Bucky does from the kitchen table, clearly expecting some more treats. He hurries over, pressing his wet nose into Bucky’s wrist.

“Hey, Scout,” Bucky greets. “Today’s the day, boy.”

He barks back, tail wagging excitedly.

Bucky laughs, scratching behind Scout’s ear. He talks to the dog as they head to the bedroom, about random things. When they get there, Scout jumps up onto the unmade bed. Bucky groans but doesn’t tell him to get down. Instead, he goes over to the bedside table on his side, and kneels down. The bottom drawer sticks and has to be jiggled in a certain way that Steve hasn’t quite mastered. It’s where Bucky’s been hiding his birthday present for Steve.

The ring he bought with his own money, while Steve was off on a mission. It’s not much, honestly -- he can’t afford a lot with the bills for school and the simple price of living -- but he knows Steve will like it anyway.

See, they’ve talked about marriage before. They’ve been together for five years, so of course they have. Neither want a big wedding, just family and close friends. Rings don’t have to be showy; in Steve’s case, his _shouldn’t_ be. He’ll have to wear it on his dog tags so it doesn’t break in a fight, so no jewels. Bucky’s not too interested in jewels either, so he’s had no problem overlooking ones with bling.

Bucky decided on a band, faux gold with an inside engraving saying, “‘Til The End of The Line”. Bucky opens the case up, running his thumb over the smooth side of it. He loves it, but he loves Steve more. It’s gonna be torture waiting until Steve gets back to give it to him.

**[...]**

There are lots of ideas online about how to do it. Most of them include hiding the ring in some sort of food, or “just knowing the right moment”. Bucky complains to Scout about it, but only when they’re inside. When they go outside to give Scout his exercise and let him use the bathroom, Bucky doesn’t talk to him at all. People always tweet when they spot him and he doesn’t need the internet making fun of him for talking to his own dog.

Scout obviously can’t say anything back, but Bucky doesn’t really mind. He’s just gotta psych himself up, and he can do that on his own.

Steve’s expected back at five, which gives Bucky -- he looks at the clock -- about six and a half hours. 

The interminable six and a half hours are spent working, petting the cats, doing homework, and telling himself repeatedly that Steve will say yes. On the off chance he doesn’t, then they’ll be fine because Bucky won’t force this issue. They’re good, married or not.

He works up some courage, enough that he feels ready to just  _ do it _ . Then Steve comes home and it all deflates like Bucky’s some kind of balloon. Still, he kisses Steve hello and gives him a hug and says Happy Birthday again.

Steve makes them stand there for a few minutes, just holding each other. “Work was exhausting,” he says into Bucky’s neck. “Can we just go to bed now?”

Bucky smooths his hand up and down Steve’s spine, feeling the tension. “Nope. May and Peter are coming over soon with your cake, and I have a present for you I don’t want you to open in front of them.”

Steve pulls back. “A sexy present?”

Bucky smiles, and it’s perhaps coy. “Maybe.” Maybe not. Whatever.  It might lead to something sexy, at least.

Steve grins, a beautiful grin if you ask Bucky, and rocks them back and forth. “Well, let’s get to it then. How long do we have until they come over?”

“Like, an hour. But I’m not doing anything until you take a shower.” He sniffs for show. “You smell like a gym. And not even a good one.”

Steve groans. “I showered already.”

“It didn’t work, honey. Did you take the subway or’d you get a ride from one of Tony’s cars? Please tell me it’s the latter.”

“Yeah, I got a ride. Why?”

“If you smelled like this on the subway, I’d seriously have to issue a public apology on Twitter or something,” Bucky teases, pulling out of Steve’s arms all the way. “Go shower, and then I’ll give you your present.”

“Oh, alright.” Steve pecks him on the lips, and then he heads to their bathroom. On the way, Bucky hears him greet Juliet, who meows back.

Bucky waits until he hears the water to fist pump. How’s he gonna do this? He’s had all day to think -- well, like two weeks now if he’s being honest -- but he still doesn’t know. Does he wanna go the food route? No, not really. Steve thinks he’s getting a present anyway, so maybe just...give it to him? But it needs to be wrapped, then.

_ Shit _ , he thinks, and hurries to their recycling. There’s old newspapers in there, Steve’s, and they’re relatively fine. All Bucky has to do is brush off some coffee grounds (Steve’s convinced him to try more of the instant stuff, in the hopes of saving money from not going to Starbucks every single day) and it’s fine.

There are scissors and scotch tape in the drawer they keep miscellaneous stuff in, and he hurries to cut up enough newspaper to wrap the box with and tape it all down. He gets done the second Steve steps out of the shower, but then there’s the matter of where to put it until he’s ready.

He panics for a few seconds before just hiding it behind the alcohol. Steve rarely drinks, sometimes for the taste but most times so Bucky’s not the only one drinking. The majority of their drinking happens when guests are over, anyway. The bottle of Jim Beam actually has dust on it.

He’s sitting on the couch when Steve comes out, dressed in more comfortable clothes and drying his hair with a towel. He smiles when he sees Bucky, and Bucky honest to god feels his heart skip a beat. Jeez, he’s acting like a kid with his first crush.

“So? Where’s this present?”

“Impatient much?” Bucky jokes, standing and coming up to him. He slips a hand between Steve’s arm and chest to his back, pulling them close. Steve drops the towel to wrap his own arms about Bucky, staring into Bucky’s eyes. “I’ll get it in a second. You gotta know, though, that I’m not one hundred percent you’ll like it, so if you don’t, lemme down easy, okay?”

“Of course, Buck.”

“Good. Close your eyes, and stay right here.”

Steve plays along, releasing Bucky and squeezing his eyes closed. “Don’t be long or I’ll come find you,” he says.

“I’ll be right back.”

Bucky goes to the kitchen, breathing in and out deeply twice. He grabs the box and takes it back out to Steve, who looks so good like this, in their home and relaxed, if a bit silly. Bucky wills his hands to stop shaking, and says, “Okay, put out your hand. Don’t peek!”

Steve laughs and does what he’s told. When Bucky sets the box in his hand, he asks, “Did you wrap it in newspaper?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re such a New Yorker,” he jokes. It takes a few probing touches of the box for Steve to ask, “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Go ahead,” Bucky says, possibly more anxious than he has been in his entire life. It was honestly less scary to be shot at.

Steve does, his eyes curious, and when he looks at the box he seems to know what it is immediately. He doesn’t look at Bucky, though, just turns the box around in his hand.

The newspaper is easy to pull off, probably because Bucky didn’t use a lotta tape,  and the box is obviously holding a ring.

Once it’s all off, Steve looks up at him. “Buck,” is all he says, wetly.

“Go ahead, Steve,” Bucky says again.

Steve does; he opens the box, and there’s the ring, the one Bucky’s so proud of. It suddenly feels like nothing at all, like he got it from the dollar store, and his brain tells him,  _ Steve deserves better, he deserves a rock the size of your  _ head _ , you idiot. _

Steve stares at it for a long moment. He pulls the ring out of the cut in the pillow, and moves two feet to the right to set the box down on the couch.

“ _ Bucky _ ,” Steve says again, and it’s not -- he’s not upset, he  _ likes  _ it,  _ oh my god  _ \-- 

Bucky sighs with relief, a physical weight falling off his shoulders. Steve hasn’t said yes yet, but he hasn’t been proposed to, so it’s okay.

The only issue is Bucky sorta thinks he might pass out from the stress of it all. He goes and sits on the couch, pulling Steve down with him since he’s right there.

“Just gimme a sec, okay?” He needs to decide what he’s going to say. He needs to think. But all he can think about is how he’s wasting time thinking about not thinking about anything! He rolls his eyes at himself, shakes his head. “Heh, you know, I planned what to say but I can’t remember anything other than you’re my best guy -- “

Steve laughs, and pulls him into a hug, tangling their limbs and pushing so Bucky’s flat on his back, Steve on his chest. Their legs are dangling off the side, and Steve’s pressing his wet face into Bucky’s neck, and it’s frankly uncomfortable but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Steve’s saying, “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

In pure relief, Bucky laughs and pets Steve’s hair. “I didn’t even say how much I love you, or how I want to grow old with you, or anything.” And he does, he wants those things so badly he aches with it. It’s impossible to think of a life without Steve in it now.

“You don’t have to, you dope. Of course I’ll marry you, and grow old with you -- “ His voice cracks, and he nuzzles more into Bucky like a damn cat. “ _ Of course, _ ” his whispers.

Bucky pulls Steve up, kisses him nice and deep, doesn’t even  _ try  _ to think about the fact that his sister and nephew will be there soon, and that’s the story of how they got engaged.

* * *

##  August 21st, 2016

T he first day of college that he actually spends away from home is not, how to say this politely, fun.

He’s fourteen years older than the freshman, which he technically is since he only has a few credits. Most of them live on campus and party as hard and as often as possible to procrastinate. Bucky procrastinates by playing with his pets, trying to weasel Steve into getting another dog, and also doing his actual job. 

Everyone on campus, freshman or not, seems to be worlds away from Bucky in every way. There are other former soldiers attending on the GI bill, but the oldest one is twenty-seven and even he makes Bucky feel old and weird for attending.

Plus they all recognize him as Captain America’s Boyfriend (they’d decided on keeping the engagement under wraps for now) and he has lots of early-twenties kids trying to be his best friend because of it. Laura calls him just to laugh at him, then gives him advice about which parties to avoid and how to deal with frat boys. Apparently he needs to get a car key. Any one off the street will do, as long as it’s pointy. “They stay the fuck away if you have a key to stab them with,” she says very seriously, and Bucky contemplates going to her school and waging war on any boy who even looks at her.

He doesn’t have a lotta time to do that, though -- two classes back-to-back, then another an hour later.

By the time he gets home, he’s exhausted. He goes right to bed, flopping face first onto his pillow.

Steve lays down next to him, asks, “How was it?”

“It sucked. I don’t wanna be a teacher anymore if I have to go to classes like these for four more years. That’s not even mentioning the decades of waking up early and grading shit and being made fun of constantly.” Bucky groans. “Why did I want to do this again.”

“Because you’ve always wanted it, and you’re good with kids, and they deserve a role model like you,” Steve lists off, pressing his face into the side of Bucky’s arm.

“I guess.” Bucky mumbles. “You know, I called Laura and she told me how to fight off frat guys. No one’s gonna mess with me I don’t think but I also don’t think I’ll be able to make any friends.”

“‘M sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. They’re all children anyway.”

Steve laughs at that, rolling over to his back. Bucky peeks over, and yup, his cowlick is flopping over on his forehead.  _ S _ _ i _ _ gh _ , Bucky thinks.  _ He’s so pretty. _

“I had a math class today. Guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t remember shit from high school.”

“You graduated over a decade ago, Buck.”

“You dropped out a century ago, so don’t come at  _ me _ , Steven Grant Rogers.”

They have a good laugh at that, until Bucky tries out, “Steven Grant Barnes.”

Steve shoots him a Look. “James Buchanan Rogers.”

“Nope. Makes me sound like that radio guy you talk about, Buck Rogers.”

It leads to some bickering, because Bucky refuses to sound like that, and Steve insists his name is  _ historical _ or some shit like that. They could hyphen? Steve sighs and says, “I’ll think about it.”

Bucky tries to be grumpy -- why is it only Steve who gets to think about something that big? -- but Steve’s just so gorgeous he can’t maintain it. He scoots over so they’re pressed to each other’s sides, laying his arm over Steve’s chest.

“Le’s sleep, baby, ‘m tired.”

“Buck,” he laughs, “What about dinner?”

“Just a nap, please,” Bucky begs.

“You can nap but I have stuff to do still,” Steve tells him, half-laughing.

“Ugh,” Bucky groans, but lets Steve up anyway. 

Steve sits up, rubbing gently at Bucky’s back. “When d’you wanna be up by?”

“Dinner, I guess.”

“Alright. Sweet dreams, doll.”

His fiance leaves the warmth of the bed, then, and heads out. Romeo, who’d been laying in Scout’s bed, follows him. Bucky watches him, thinking again about how much he loves Steve. How much he loves their little family, and their home. He used to dream about having something like this, but he’d never expected he’d actually get it.

His eyes slip closed, and he thinks as he falls asleep,  _ no matter what the future brings, I know I’ll always have Steve by my side. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jamaica is a neighborhood in Queens. Bucky doesn't drive all the way to Jamaica and back in that time lmao
> 
> Sometimes I forget you guys don't know what I'm planning lmao. I promise that Yankee Jim will have his time in the next fic, which'll be set in the 1940s for the most part.
> 
> I wanna say now, the thing Peter's hiding is his being Spider-Man, obviously. It's not mentioned again, but he and Bucky do work it out. Bucky eases off, but Peter also realizes that Bucky sort of is the last person he has to fill that role in his life and accepts it to some degree. His secret isn't revealed. The events of Homecoming don't happen yet, and probably will not happen the same as in the movie.
> 
> You just gotta think, Peter's 15 and he's going through puberty (the _wrong_ puberty at that) and he's grieving Uncle Ben and he's Spider-Man, all at once. His emotions are gonna be high and he's gonna say things that cause conflict (like him accusing Steve of saying it's Ben's fault he died last chapter). I promise that things will always work out with Peter and his family, because I can't, in good conscious, make things worse for him.
> 
> The part where Tony is in his room sounds really bad but the rustling noise is just Peter shoving his suit in the closet (because Tony pulled it out to control Peter with) and he's not really embarrassed, Bucky just thinks he is. I'd say it's really a mix of excitement of being a Big Shot Superhero and fear of being outed as Spider-Man.
> 
> Also this is a pretty...abrupt ending but that's because there's more to come! The CapRBB and CapBB are both gonna require a lot of my attention for pretty much the rest of the summer but I promise I will not abandon this series! Updates will probably be slower, unfortunately.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhh yeah thanks for reading, please comment, I will love you forever and it'll make me write faster <3
> 
> What to expect in the future installments? Time travel, Steve POV, smut, social media, more cats and dogs, more Peter, and a happy ending epilogue.  
> If you want to help me decide what to write (probably small bits and pieces), [take this survey](https://goo.gl/forms/3Jg5CFUm8tVSku0F2). It's anonymous and shouldn't take too long. You can take it as many times as you like. Thank you!!


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